Scorpions and Skeletons
by ZakoBattledroid
Summary: The most unlikely of people find themselves charged with saving Tamriel from Oblivion. Charged with crimes she didn't commit and thrown in the Imperial Prison, a Scorpion Daedra finds herself paired with an alcoholic necromancer. Will they be able to save Tamriel? Would they even want to? Will these misfits even be able to get out of the Imperial sewers alive?
1. Prison Break

**Scorpions and Skeletons**

 **Chapter 1: Prison Break**

Clare Sadlygrove's eyes creaked open. She felt sore and cold all over, made sense as she was lying on the stone floor. The smell of piss and despair clogged her nostrils. The air was so thick with mold spores she could already feel it in her lungs.

Her head was throbbing. She was so sensitive she could feel the pressure being relieved from her head as she lifted it from the cold stone floor. Wrist irons were clamped down around… you guessed it, her wrists. Clare Sadlygrove didn't much see the point of the shackles, they didn't bind to any specific location by a chain and she could freely move her hands. And it wasn't as if she couldn't break the bindings off if she wanted to anyway.

The female Scorpion Daedra slowly stood up. Like all of her kind, she was an imposing figure. Her head, torso and arms all had human proportions, but they were mounted atop an armored carapace of a giant scorpion.

The thumping in her brain started to settle as Clare slowly remembered how she had gotten into this situation in the first place. She had been accused of a crime she didn't commit. It wasn't merely a mistake; she had been framed. Someone was out to get her and make her suffer, and there was a long list of people that wanted to make her suffer. All her life people had hatred and shunned her, such was the sentence for a Scorpion Daedra stuck in the realm of Mundus.

Clare was so frustrated that her innocence wasn't proven. When she had been taken to the Imperial City, she had gotten a little too fresh with the guards and they had beaten her to within an inch of her life—ultimately resulting with her being bashed across the head hard with a mace… very hard. She wondered how long she had been out. Couldn't have been too long or she would be cursed with brain damage. She wondered if having brain damage felt any different from normal or if she would even be able to tell if she had brain damage.

"Hey, scorpion!" There was a Dunmer in the cell across from hers.

"What do you want?" Clare asked in a lightly raspy, tomboyish voice as she walked over to the bars to see what the fuss was about. She swore to the gods, if he was a spitter…

"It must break your heart, huh? Being stuck in the realm of Mundus, knowing you'll never be able to serve your master… You know, you'll never get the chance to serve Mephala again. But don't worry, you'll be dead soon enough. That's right. You're going to die in here!"

"There's more to being a Scorpion Daedra than obeying Mephala, you racist swine!" Brain damage was starting to sound like a good idea. This was going to be a _long_ prison sentence if she was going to be stuck in the cell facing this jackass the whole time.

"Yeah, you're never gonna get used to him, he _never_ shuts up. Ever. He even talks in his sleep," a voice came out from the darkness. It was close. Clare guessed it was coming from the person in the cell to the left of hers.

Far off, they heard a door open, followed by footsteps.

"Hey, you hear that? The guards are coming… for you!" the annoying Dunmer prisoner cackled.

All the prisoners fell silent as they waited for the guards to make their appearance. Clare didn't believe for one second they were coming for her… or were they? They couldn't be coming for her. She had just started her sentence. Clare backed away from her cell bars, an uncertain, churning fear beginning to fester in her stomach.

"Baurus! Lock that door behind us!"

"Yessir."

"My sons… they're dead, aren't they?"

"We don't know that, Sire. The messenger only said they were attacked."

"No, they're dead. I know it," the voice carried the tone of quiet defeat.

"My job right now is to get you to safety."

Clare didn't recognize the voices as any of the guards that she had mouthed off to earlier before being put her in the cell.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off-limits." The soldiers' armor was not that was the prison guards. It looked vaguely familiar to Clare but she couldn't quite place it.

"Usual mix-up at the Watch. I—"

"Never mind. Get that gate open."

Hearing that, Clare naturally made her way over to the gate's bars.

"By the Nine! This is the cell that houses the damn Daedra! How could they plan this?"

"They didn't. It's just a coincidence. Stand back, prisoner. We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way."

Without thinking, Clare's eight legs skittered back a grand total of two paces.

"You! Prisoner! Stand aside. Over by the window. Stay out of the way, and you won't get hurt."

Suddenly, Clare didn't feel like being so compliant. She had always been an agreeable person… mostly… sort of… and all it gotten her was a lifetime of isolation and a cell in the Imperial Prison. Clare Sadlygrove needed a change of pace. She took a step _towards_ the bars.

"Prisoner! Stand away from the door! Over by the window, now!"

"What door? There's just a bunch of prison bars here." Clare stuck out her tongue at the guard.

"Prisoner! Get over by the window, now!" He sounded _really_ mad this time. Feeling like she had pushed her luck far enough, Clare turned around and went over to the window. She figured they really were going to kill her if she didn't comply and she didn't feel like dying on this particular day.

The guards and an elder man dressed in regal finery shuffled in as Clare did her best to lean back against the cell wall. Not an easy task given her size. Her four rearmost legs actually ended up going up the wall.

"No sign of pursuit, sir."

One of the guards came in close. Clare thought he was going to draw his blade and kill her for a moment. At least until he spoke: "Stay put, prisoner."

"Good. Let's go. We're not out of this yet."

The elderly man stopped when he neared Clare. "You… I've seen you…" He barely got a glimpse of the Scorpion Daedra as his Blades barred the way between the two of them.

"Uh, sorry. I don't believe we've met."

"Let me see your face…"

"Uhh…"

"You are the one from my dreams…"

Clare's pale blue face turned a shade of red. This was a new experience for her. Being a Scorpion Daedra, Clare didn't get propositions from suitors. Even so, Clare Sadlygrove was not an easy conquest.

"You're gonna need a better pickup line than that. Just how easy do you think I am?"

"Then the stars were right, and this is the day. Gods give me strength."

"Wait… you're not trying to get me into bed? What's going on?"

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next. My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that escape route leads through your cell."

The Blades—the Emperor's personal bodyguards. Now Clare recognized their armor.

"I'm not supposed to be here. I was framed!"

"Perhaps the gods have placed you here so that we may meet. As for what you have done… it does not matter."

"It so totally does! I didn't do anything!"

"That is not what you will be remembered for."

"I would hope so. You don't know what I was charged with, do you?"

"It matters not. You are a citizen of Tamriel and shall serve her in your own way, just as I do."

"I've already been serving Tamriel for a good long time, before I was framed. Without much thanks, I might add. I've done enough. I'll go my own way."

"We cannot escape the paths that fate has laid down for us. Take care… there will be blood and death before the end."

"Hopefully not mine," Clare said.

"Please, Sire, we must keep moving." One of the Blades pressed on one of the bricks lining the wall and a secret passageway opened up.

"Better not close this one. There's no way to open it from the other side."

"Looks like this is your lucky day. Just stay out of our way," one of the Blades pointed at Clare accusingly. The emperor and his cadre left through the secret passage, leaving Clare alone in her cell once more.

"I can't believe you're getting out of here," the Dunmer in the opposite cell whined.

"H-hey, you in the cell next to mine! W-wait!" It was the person in the cell next to hers. The one Clare couldn't see.

"Huh, what?" Clare paused and looked back towards the prisoner bars, towards the sound of the voice.

"Do you think you could get me out of here? I'm innocent too!"

"Yeah, so am I!" the Dunmer added. Clare didn't believe for a second that the dark elf was telling the truth.

"I'm telling the truth!" the other voice pleaded. "I've been accused of being a necromancer and attacking the Mages Guild. But I did no such thing! I'm innocent, I swear! I've been scheduled for execution! You've got to get me out of here, please! I don't want to die…"

Clare tried to push open the cell bars, but the Blades had locked up after coming through. She then tried ripping off the bars with her giant claws. The bars held firm, but slowly started to bend.

"They locked my cell. These bars are a lot tougher than they look." It was an embarrassing thing to admit, but Clare simply spoke truthfully without a filter. The truth was Clare should have been able to break through the bars easily, but she was still woozy and weak from the beating she had taken from the guards.

"No… No! You can't leave me behind! I'm innocent too! This isn't fair!"

"I'm trying!" Clare snapped as she wrestled with the barrier.

The Dunmer started yelling for the guards. None had come. Clare couldn't hang around forever. Eventually someone would show up and stop her from using the secret escape route.

Clare was getting close to ripping the bars right out of their stone holdings; she could feel it. But the Dunmer kept shouting.

"Sorry. There's no time. Tough luck, buddy." Clare turned and left through the secret passage. She could hear the wails of the other prisoner slowly fade into the abyss.

The short, dirty tunnel quickly emptied into what looked like an ancient dungeon. Clare could hear the footsteps of the emperor and his bodyguards. They weren't far ahead. She followed, thinking it would be better to trail behind them rather than roam around aimlessly lost.

"There's trouble ahead."

There was a sudden rush of footsteps and what sounded like some sort of spell being cast.

"Close up left! Protect the emperor!"

"The captain's down!"

Clare heard the sounds of battle. Of swords clashing against one another. She rushed forward. She quickly caught up and caught sight of the battle. It was difficult to see with pillars obscuring her view and the fighting leading down a set of stairs, but Clare saw figures clad in red robes and dark armor attacking the Blades.

Right as she was upon them, the last of the mysterious assassins fell.

"Are you all right, Sire? We're clear, for now."

"Captain Renault?" the emperor asked.

"She's dead. I'm sorry, Sire, but we have to keep moving."

"How could they be waiting for us here?"

"Don't know. But it's too late to go back now."

Clare lifted a steel shortsword from one of the corpses but quickly tossed it aside. It didn't have the reach she needed and her claws were better weapons anyway.

"Be careful…"

"Don't worry, Sire, we will get you out of here. They won't be the first to underestimate the Blades. I'll take point. Let's move."

Clare started to follow the emperor and his Blades.

One of them turned around to address her. "You stay here, prisoner. Don't try and follow us."

They went through a wooden door and locked it behind them.

 _Fools,_ Clare thought to herself. _Do they really think a wooden door would stop me?_

Even beaten and bruised, Clare could easily handle a wooden door. She may not have been able to break the rusty old bars earlier, but she could certainly handle an old wooden door. The door looked weak enough that simply leaning against it would cause it to collapse.

But before Clare even did anything, she heard the sounds of stones breaking and falling. She turned around to see that one of the stone walls had suddenly crumbled and collapsed.

A large rat scampered through and charged right at her. As it leapt, Clare instinctively raised one of her claws up to protect her more vulnerable human torso. The rat bit down and hung on for dear life. Clare barely felt a thing. She grabbed the rat with her other claw and effortlessly sheared the outmatched creature in half. Another rat bolted from the hole and lunged. This time Clare caught the rat midair. She cut it in half just as easily as she had the first.

Clare peered inwards, seeing the collapsed wall had opened an even older path. Her pain-addled mind decidedly to simply waltz on to the new area, rather than go back and break down the wooden door the emperor had gone through.

It was dark but Clare's six eyes were much sharper than most men, mer or beast folk. Pacing around in the dark for a moment and she was able to find a rusty iron bow and a quiver of iron arrows from a skeleton lying against the wall.

She notched one of the arrows and fired it into a bucket hanging above an ancient, long-forgotten well. Luckily the old bowstring held and didn't snap. "Better than a shortsword," Clare grumbled to herself.

Clare turned back to the skeleton. Noticed an old wooden chest. She fumbled for a moment to open it, only to learn that it was locked. She was never much one for picking locks, and didn't have a lockpick. So Clare Sadlygrove did what she always did when faced with a locked chest: she picked it up in her two massive claws and snapped it in half. She was rewarded with a few gold coins and sapphire for her effort. Couldn't hurt to escape with a means to buy a meal later. She picked up the small, humble treasures and carefully placed them into the pockets of her prison rags, checking to make sure there were no holes with which the gold coins and sapphire might escape.

The Scorpion Daedra fumbled around in the dark for a while longer, running into a rat and killing it. She found a wooden door and smashed right through it, leading into another dark, dusty area. A pair of rats occupied this room, though they were hardly a threat and the Scorpion Daedra made short work of them. Clare stopped and thought about stripping the small corpses of their meat, she was hungry. A moment later she realized the stench coming from the rat bodies and decided she wasn't that hungry yet.

Clare started to continue on once again but suddenly stopped short. She could have sworn she heard something, and it was not the scurrying feet of rats, but the tiptoe of someone that needed a lesson in stealth. She waited a moment longer, and heard nothing more.

"Ah, I'm hearing things," Clare said to herself as much as to the possible unknown follower. "My head got hit too hard. No one is stupid enough to try and follow a Scorpion Daedra. And if anyone is that stupid, then they are no threat to me."

She continued down a hall. She stopped as she saw a rat torn apart by a hunched, bipedal figure. Clare peered harder through the darkness and saw that it was a zombie… one that used to be a male human, to be precise.

With a sickly croak, the zombie started to shamble towards her. Clare gave an exasperated sigh as she addressed her opponent. "You can barely walk upright, yet you are going to attack me?"

She seized the undead monster in her claws and eviscerated it in an instant. "Zombies are so stupid."

She shook her head, continuing on and killing a group of rats that was equally stupid in challenging her.

Clare soon heard it again: the soft shuffling noise of someone that needed a lesson in how to sneak properly. She knew for certain that someone was following her now.

She turned a corner and waited. Clare was frozen, deathly silent. She had gone into predatory mode. That someone was trying to sneak up on her implied some level of intelligence, and that meant that they were more of a danger than rats and zombies.

Clare heard the soft patter of footsteps from the corridor she had skittered through. They were steadily getting closer, louder. A few seconds more…

The Scorpion Daedra lunged back around the corner and rushed forward with speed that belied her size. She seized the crouched shadow in her claws and slammed it up against the stone wall. She pushed the body up against the wall until her prey was eyelevel with her. Then she grabbed him by the throat with her left hand and started pressing in her thumb hard. "Who are you? Speak!"

"H-hard t-too when you're choking me, you dumb b-b-b-bitch."

Clare's face twisted into a scowl and her bore her fangs at the man, but relieved the pressure on his throat so that he could talk.

"Answer me honestly, or you die."

"N-no need to be so dramatic. Jakrelkill Valbanill, at your service… provided you don't crush my throat. That s-sounds like a fair deal, doesn't it? You let me live, and you g-get yourself a nice little traveling companion. I'll even carry stuff around for you like a pack mule."

"What?" Clare's six eyes peered at the human through the dark.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? A little friend to follow you around and help you fight and carry stuff for you. All it costs you is to not kill me. Pretty good deal, I think. You should take it."

Clare huffed as she removed her hand from his throat entirely. Though she still kept him pinned up against the wall. "You are awfully quick to pledge your allegiance."

"Hey, it's better than dying. I know when I'm beat."

Then Clare realized she recognized the voice. "You're that prisoner from before."

"I can say the same thing to you. But, yeah, i-it's me. I'm the poor guy you left to die back there."

"And you escaped?"

"H-how astute you are. I've got a real winner right here. Of course I did. I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Why didn't you escape on your own then?"

"D-didn't have the motivation. I did once you left."

"How did you escape?" Clare asked in a demanding tone. "I mean it. I want to know."

"Had a lockpick. Don't ask where I hid it, you _don't_ wanna know that. I only had one. Which meant I had to unlock both my and your cells with one pick to get to the secret escape route. But like I said, I had motivation. And I managed not to mess it up."

Clare thought for a moment but then suddenly started to become uncomfortable as the human kept staring into her eyes—her primary eyes, not the extra four that adorned her forehead.

"So? You gonna put me down or kill me? Or if you want, you know, we could lock lips or somethin'. You are holding me at the perfect height for that kinda thing."

Clare's claws released their grip on his waist and he dropped to the floor.

"So, I take that as a 'no' on the making out. But also a 'no' on the killing me. Not bad. I'll take it." Valbanill picked himself up and dusted off his prison garb. He looked back up at the Scorpion Daedra.

"So, what's your name? Or are you gonna make me guess?"

Clare suddenly came to her senses. "Clare. Clare Sadlygrove."

"Nice name. Sounds like the name of a woman I'd like to marry one day."

 _What is with this guy?_ Clare couldn't help but blush. He was so corny and had a hiccup in his speech, yet his words had an odd, honeyed sweetness to them. But Clare knew the truth; he was just a scared parasite trying to butter her up in order save his own skin.

"Alright, sweet talker. Let's go. You try anything stupid and you're dead."

"Relax, Sadlygrove. Just because I'm bad at sneaking doesn't mean I'm stupid. I put all my points into Intelligence. I was just tryin' ta follow you out. I'm not dumb enough to try anything against a Scorpion Daedra."

Clare nudged Valbanill with her right claw and made the human take the lead.

"I can't see for shit," Valbanill quickly started to complain. "It's as if someone forgot to adjust the brightness levels in the options menu."

"The what?" Clare asked, confused as to what Valbanill was mumbling about.

"Never mind."

Valbanill reached his right hand up slightly and was coated in a dull blue glow for a moment.

Clare stopped, claws stretched out to attack. "What was that?"

"I cast a spell, duh," Valbanill turned back around to face the Scorpion Daedra. "Boy, I sure hit the jackpot with you."

"So you are a necromancer?"

"Just because I know a few spells doesn't automatically make me a necromancer."

"Fair enough." Clare still had her doubts, but dropped the subject. Even if he was a necromancer, he shouldn't give her much trouble if it came to a fight.

"Ah, I can see much better now." Jakrelkill Valbanill turned back around and continued through the path with much more confidence.

"See better?"

"My wizard eyes," Valbanill answered. "Not all magic is fireballs and healing spells."

The old artificial corridors eventually gave way to cavernous tunnels filled with fungus.

"Goblins up ahead," Valbanill said quietly.

"How do you know?" She whispered back. "Your wizard eyes?"

"No. My nose. I know the stench of goblin."

Clare felt like an idiot. She was no stranger to the rancid smell of the goblins. She cursed herself for not catching it sooner. But her head still hurt and she still felt like shit. "Lead me to them and I'll kill them with my bow."

Valbanill took the lead, trying his best to be stealthy. Though saying his crouched waddle was stealthy was being a bit generous. The speed of their progress was greatly reduced.

The smell of the goblins was becoming so indescribably horrible as the pair snuck around the goblins, Clare killing them with her rusty iron bow and arrows. It was an easy task, even with Valbanill's lackluster stealth skills and Sadlygrove's large size. The goblins weren't expecting company, and their large, bulbous heads were easy targets for arrows.

"I miss the smell of my former prison cell," Clare dared whisper.

"This entire little adventure really stinks so far," Valbanill quietly complained.

The goblins had even set up some traps, which Clare was able to use against them.

"Such stupid creatures," Valbanill said, growing bolder and talking more loudly. "They get caught in their own traps. Why do they even set them up in the first place? What are they, expecting a war?"

"Perhaps they're afraid of the zombies lurking around."

"That's another thing," Valbanill continued. "The Empire needs to get its act together. They have fuckin' zombies running around in their basement."

"Yes. Someone needs to do some housekeeping. It's probably several hundred years overdue."

"Why's it have to be us?" Valbanill whined.

"Hey, I'm doing the killing here. Feel free to jump in any time."

"What? I just got this rusty old dagger from a goblin. You want me to go charging in after everything with this little thing? My dick's bigger."

"Then use that."

"No. I need my dick for lovin' not fighting."

"No? Then shut up with 'us' stuff when I'm doing the real work."

"Hey, I'm helping. I'm a great meat shield. They have to go through me before they get to you."

"They haven't made it that far yet," Clare reminded Valbanill.

* * *

They reached a hole that get emptied them back down into the grim light of the Imperial sewers. Moving forward, they could both hear people talking down below.

"We should find a defensible spot and protect the Emperor until help arrives."

"Help? What makes you think help will get here before more of those bastards? We need to get the Emperor out of here."

Clare and Valbanill looked to see another group of red-robed figures rush the emperor and his bodyguards.

"Here they come again!"

The Blades and the assassins locked swords.

"So, are we gonna—" Valbanill started to ask Clare a question.

Clare notched her bow and fired an arrow into the head of one of the assassins.

"Answers my question," Valbanill shrugged.

Clare crawled down the wall, her scorpion legs making ticking sounds on the stone wall. Valbanill jumped down after her.

One of the assassins turned to face Clare, only to be greatly surprised at the sight of a Scorpion Daedra. Or, Clare could only guess he was surprised. She couldn't see any expressions as the assassin was concealed by an armored mask. But he did pause, and that was enough for her to put two arrows in his chest.

It was only a moment longer before the Blades finished off the other assassins.

"Dammit, it's that prisoner again! Kill her, she might be working with the assassins." The Blades started to approach Clare. Valbanill hid behind the Scorpion Daedra.

"No. She is not one of them," the emperor said. "She can help us. She must help us."

"As you wish, Sire." The Blades sheathed their weapons without hesitation. Their absolute loyalty to the emperor's words clearly shown through their actions.

"Come closer," the emperor beckoned to Clare. "I prefer not to shout."

Clare approached with Valbanill in tow.

"They cannot understand why I trust you. They've not seen what I've seen."

"I don't get it," Clare admitted.

"How can I explain? Listen. You know the Nine? How they guide our fates with an invisible hand?"

"My fate is apparently being framed for crimes I didn't commit," Clare's voice was heavy with bitterness.

"But you've been given another chance. I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens. The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and I wonder… which sign marked your birth?"

It was an odd question. It still felt like the emperor was trying to get her into bed. "The Lover. But what would it matter?"

"The signs I read show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

"What about me?"

"Your stars are not mine. Today the Lover shall sweeten your journey as you confront your fate."

"Can you see my fate?" Clare asked.

"My dreams grant me no opinions of success. Their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death. But in your face, I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and with the promise of your aid, my heart must be satisfied."

"Aren't you afraid to die? I know I am."

"No trophies of my triumphs precede me. But I have lived well, and my ghost shall rest easy. Men are but flesh and blood. They know their doom, but not the hour. In this I am blessed to see the hour of my death… To face my apportioned fate, then fall."

"Where are we going?"

"I go to my grave. A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, then we must part."

One of the Blades stepped over to Valbanill. "You may as well make yourself useful. Here, carry this torch and stick close."

"What, you don't trust me to do anything besides wield a torch?"

"Stick close and let us do our job, and you'll be all right."

"Fine, I'll carry the damn torch… because I _want_ to, not because you told me to," Valbanill grumbled.

Clare and Valbanill trailed after the emperor, as the regal old man started moving again.

"We really should pick up the pace if we want to avoid any more of those attackers," Valbanill whispered to Clare.

As if on cue, more of the red-robed assassins appeared. Clare was able to nail a good number of them with her arrows, but the assassins were devout in their mission to slay the emperor. Even stuck with several arrows, the attackers didn't linger or rest until they were outright killed. Clare noticed that it was easy to tell when one of the assassins finally died: they all utilized conjured armor that would dissipate when they died. At least it looked like none of them were going to play possum and try to get in an extra sneak attack that way.

"Take them down!"

More assassins appeared, as if spawning from around corners.

"The Emperor's in danger!"

"Prisoners! The Emperor needs help!"

* * *

The last of the assassins was finally slain.

"You handled yourself pretty well back there. Just keep out of our way, got it?" One of the Blades, Baurus told Clare.

"Yeah, got it," Clare wheezed. She had ended up doing more fighting than the Blades had but was too tired to argue that it was they who should stay out of her way.

They kept pushing forward again.

"You alright?" Valbanill asked.

Clare was slightly surprised. For a second, there seemed to be genuine concern in Valbanill's voice. "I'll live."

"I don't like this. Let me take a look."

"Looks clear. Come on. We're almost through to the sewers."

Glenroy tried to move the gate. "Dammit! The gate is barred from the other side. A trap!"

"What about that side passage back there?"

"Worth a try. Let's go!"

"It's a dead end. What's your call, sir?"

"They're behind us! Wait here, Sire."

"Wait here with the Emperor. Guard him with your life."

"For the Emperor!"

The Blades ran back, leaving Clare and Valbanill with Uriel Septim.

"I can go no further." Septim looked up at Clare. "You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants. He must not have the Amulet of Kings!"

"Do I really have to stand alone? Can't I lie down? Or at least take Valbanill over here with me?"

Septim removed his amulet and handed it to Clare. "Take the amulet. Give it to Jauffre. He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

Clare noticed something out of the corner of her six eyes. This area was indeed a trap. Some of the assassins had lured the Blades away, making the emperor more vulnerable. The emperor had accepted his fate, but Clare was in no mood to follow the path set down by the gods. They hadn't exactly been nice to her, so she felt no need to follow some pre-determined, scripted play. Because out of the corner of her eyes, Clare noticed a secret passage move on the wall by the emperor—saw the red-robed assassin sneak up.

Clare burst forward, knocking the emperor aside just before the assassin could strike. Two, three, four more assassins appeared to attack, Clare fending them away from the emperor as best she could.

Not a single one of the attackers was any match for the Scorpion Daedra, but they weren't fighting to kill her, or even to survive the ordeal, they only wanted the emperor's death.

"Stranger, you chose a bad day to take up with the cause of the Septims," one of the assassins taunted.

"The Amulet of Kings will be mine!" another yelled.

And just when everything seemed hopeless… it got worse. Suddenly, skeletons appeared from around corners and behind pillars. They went after everyone, including the assassins.

Clare did her best to keep the newcomers away from the emperor. She was fighting off the assassins and she would be damned if she'd let the emperor get killed by a random skeleton infestation.

But there were so many. The skeletons kept coming. Some were even encrusted in an ominous black coloration, rather than the bone-white of the regular skeletons.

"Valbanill! Where the fuck are you? Valbanill! I need help!" Clare didn't even know if he was alive or dead at this point. All she knew was that a group of skeletons was pawing at the emperor, dragging him away, and there were too many others in her path. She would not make in time before they slayed him.

Then Clare saw it, the wall started to crumble. She had to turn to slay the last of the assassins but she heard it fall. She frantically looked back to see nothing but rubble and dust.

The wall had collapsed, crushing both Emperor Uriel Septim VII and his skeleton attackers.

The skeletons stopped appearing, and their numbers dwindled to nothing as Clare finished them off with her claws and tail.

Clare was panting and drenched in sweat. Her prison garb was tattered, torn and barely clinging to her torso. Her bow had broken. Not that it mattered. She had run out of arrows. She managed enough strength to toss the empty quiver aside.

She noticed Valbanill, crawling around on his hands and knees. After a few more heaving breaths Clare looked to see what he was doing. He was picking up the sapphire and few pieces of gold that had fallen from newly formed holes in Clare's clothes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hissed.

"No sense letting good gold go to waste."

Fueled by anger, Clare lunged forward and pinned the human to the cold stone floor.

"Where the fuck were you? I needed help!"

"I was helping! I was fighting! The fighting is over now. Time to pick up the pieces."

"The Emperor is dead!" Clare wheezed.

"That's no reason to leave gold lying around on the floor."

"I can't believe you!" Clare pushed herself off the floor and left Valbanill to his greed.

The Blade named Baurus finally returned. Clare pointed him to where the emperor had been crushed by the wall.

"We've failed. I've failed… The Blades are sworn to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead. The amulet, where's the Amulet of Kings? We need to dig it out."

"The Emperor gave it to me before he died." Clare presented the jewelry.

"Strange. He saw something in you. Trusted you. They say it's the Dragon Blood, that flows through the veins of every Septim. They see more than lesser men. The Amulet of Kings is a sacred symbol of the Empire. Most people think of the Red Dragon Crown, but that's just jewelry. The amulet has power. Only a true heir of the Blood can wear it, they say. He must have given it to you for a reason. Did he say why?"

"He told me to take it to Jauffre."

"Jauffre? He said that? Why?"

"There is another heir. Who would have guessed? Awfully convenient if you ask me."

"Nothing I ever heard about. But Jauffre would be the one to know. He's the Grandmaster of my Order. Although you may not think so to meet him. He lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol."

"Just _great_ ," Clare rolled all six of her eyes.

"First you need to get out of here. Through that door must be the entrance to the sewers, past the locked gate. That's where we were heading. It's a secret way out of the Imperial City. Or it was supposed to be secret. Here. You'll need this key for the last door into the sewers."

"Right… the sewers."

"There are rats and goblins down there… but from what I've seen of you, I'm guessing you're an experienced archer. Am I right?"

"I'm a warrior."

"I wasn't far off. In any case, rats and goblins won't give you any trouble."

"They won't, considering I've killed several of them already."

"You must get the amulet to Jauffre. Take no chances, but proceed to Weynon Priory immediately. Got it?"

"You want _me_ to deliver the amulet? What about you? This sounds like a task for the Blades."

"The Emperor appointed this task to you. I'll stay here to make sure no on follows you. They must not get the amulet."

" _Fine_. I'll deliver the damn thing."

"Good. Hopefully the Emperor's trust was well placed."

"You know, I'm accepting this assignment with the understanding that I've been pardoned."

"Me too," Valbanill added.

"Fair enough. You'd better get moving. May Talos guide you."

"Hopefully he guides me better than he did the Emperor," Clare muttered as she unlocked the cover into the sewers.

* * *

Navigating the Imperial sewers proved to be a quick affair. The path was straightforward enough and the goblins, rats and mudcrabs they came across proved no challenge, especially when compared to the red-robed agents they had fought earlier.

"Will you slow down? H-how do you know where to go anyway?" Valbanill asked as he struggled to keep up with Clare's increased pace.

"I'm following my nose. Just keep moving towards where the air isn't as foul."

"H-hey! Wait up! Slogging through sludge isn't as easy for me as it is for you."

"Hurry up, Valbanill. You pledged to serve me. I'm not here to babysit you. And I feel that's what I've been doing this whole time," there was a sharp tinge to Clare's words.

"You have claws, cut me a break, scorpion girl."

"Don't you keep whining at me," Clare hissed as she mercilessly slaughtered a mudcrab in her way. "I was framed. The Emperor's dead. I'm a long way from home and now on top of all that I have to deliver this stupid amulet because the Emperor's Blades are useless. They couldn't do their damn job, and ask me to handle the aftermath."

"I-if you remember, I'm in the same boat. I was framed too. I've been with you on this miserable adventure every step of the way… oh wait… I wasn't. You left me to rot back there in the cell."

Clare sharply turned back around to face Valbanill, an impressive feat given her size. "And I will leave you again! I don't need your help. You whiny, miserable, pitiful excuse for a man! You're the one who needs me! And as soon as we're out of these wretched sewers I'm done with you."

Valbanill didn't say anything back, keeping silent the rest of the way. Clare was glad for Valbanill's newfound muteness; it made the pain throbbing in her head slightly more bearable as she cut her way through the remaining rats and mudcrabs.

* * *

They eventually reached a long dingy hall with moonlight seeping through the bars on the opposite side. Clare slowly skittered towards the exit, Valbanill trailing behind her. She pushed the rusty iron gate open and walked out into the open world.

A vast, beautiful night sky greeted Clare. The two moons, Masser and Secunda hung in the sky against a brilliant backdrop of stars. It took her breath away. Clare couldn't remember the last time she had seen such a beautiful night sky. Or perhaps it only looked all the more beautiful after spending so much time in the sewers.

Clare skittered forward, heading towards the water. She could hear soft footsteps as Valbanill slowly trailed behind her. She waded into the shallow water. It felt nice and cool and Clare wanted nothing more than to dip down and submerge herself and get the feeling of grime and filth off of her.

"Hey," Valbanill said as he followed the Scorpion Daedra into the shallow water.

"What?" Clare was curt. The pair continued to aimlessly amble toward a small island ahead.

"We're out of the sewer. I guess my service to you is finished."

"I guess it is."

Valbanill let out a sigh. To Clare, it sounded like the weary sigh of defeat. She turned to face the human. Her eyes were sharp, and she could see better than most in the dark, but she could see better in the moonlight, and got a much better look at Jakrelkill Valbanill. He was a slender man, emaciated. She realized it was no wonder he was no good in a fight. It was a wonder he survived the ordeal at all. His skin looked ghastly pale, as if he was sick and his tattered prison clothes barely held to his body. It didn't look like he would last the night; Clare realized there was probably a very real chance he might freeze to death despite the fact that it wasn't all that cold.

"You let me off easy." He dug into a grimy pocket and fished out some of the gold and the sapphire he had picked up off the floor. "F-fair's fair. Half the gold is yours. You can keep the sapphire. I won't need it. But I'll keep half the gold. I need to eat to."

Clare's voice caught in her throat. This was not a gesture she was expecting. She finally moved her lips to speak… and then—

Two arrows struck Valbanill in the chest and he fell backward into the water.

Clare turned around to see bandits on the edge of the island ahead. Before she could even react, the bandit archer let loose one more arrow—and Clare felt an incredible pain in her throat.

She tried to breathe but couldn't. Finally she managed to cough. She tasted blood. She could feel her blood. Deep violet blood ran down her throat and onto her collarbone. The pain was so paralyzing and unbearable Clare couldn't even muster the strength to try and remove the arrow embedded in her throat.

Clare was barely able to look up towards the sky. Her emerald irises able to behold Masser and Secunda one more time. It was a beautiful scene, and likely the last thing she would ever see. There were worse things one could behold upon their death. This didn't seem so bad.

 _Such a beautiful night,_ she thought to herself.

Clare collapsed into the water. She closed her eyes and all turned to cold blackness.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I wanted to tell the story of Elder Scrolls IV from a new perspective. The ten playable races are too mainstream. So to, are peoples and creatures from the actual lore. All kidding aside, I figured why not a Scorpion Daedra? It would be believable that they could exist, given the existent of the Spider Daedra. And I remember seeing different mods people have created for the game. Some of the mods create new companions that the player can bring with them on their adventures. I figured a Scorpion Daedra would likely be a companion (if they were ever to exist at all), so I flipped it around. The Scorpion Daedra is the main protagonist, with a follower that's a member of the ten playable races. Hopefully it's interesting, or at the very least, different.


	2. Vilverin

**Chapter 2: Vilverin**

The world was nothing but fuzzy warmness. It was as if the world had been lightly baked and wrapped in the embrace of a large bear pelt. Then the pelt split a hundred different times and morphed into a hundred butterflies. Their overheated wings creating little torrents of weak warmth in all directions. Flitting close and then far, the butterflies morphed into birds. The warmth grew more powerful, closer, penetrating.

Clare Sadlygrove's six eyes slowly opened. Piercing light assaulted her immediately and she winced at the sun's onslaught. She closed her eyes again, trying to retreat back to the soothing darkness, but the rays of light could no longer be ignored. Clare tried to take a few controlled breaths, before creaking her eyes open once again.

She was not in some cold, dingy cell in the Imperial Prison, but outside. Her head was no longer killing her but her throat was sore beyond belief. She was wrapped in a bedroll, as much as her size would allow. And the remains of a tent had been draped over her to continue where the bedroll left off.

Slowly, the Scorpion Daedra got up, her makeshift coverings still clinging to her body. Clare had to shake them away. She looked around. The ground was grassy, there was a fire dying down in a large fire pit surrounded by stones. She looked to be in a small camp settled right next to the faded white stone of Ayleid ruins. Off in the distance she could see the walls of the Imperial City.

She idly massaged her throat with her hand, remembering what had happened. She had been shot in the throat.

"Am I dead?" Clare wondered aloud. But there was no one there to answer her.

She heard movement, looked in the direction from which it was coming from. Footsteps muffled by grass from behind the assemblage of Ayleid ruins to her right.

"N-no." An emaciated human walked into view. He clutched a bottle of ale in one hand. "I know it's probably a huuuuggee inconvenience, but you're still a-among the living."

"Jakrelkill Valbanill."

"So, you remember me, eh? There aren't many who do. And others I wish wouldn't."

What happened?" Clare asked.

"Don't you remember? Boy, and I thought my memory was bad." Valbanill took a swig of the ale. "You got shot in the throat by an arrow."

"I remember that part. How are we still here? Alive?"

"I took care of bidness." Valbanill hiccupped.

"I saw you fall. You took two in the chest, if I recall."

"SO what? I'm tougher than I look. Don't underestimate the power of a Breton that wants to live to drink another day."

"I didn't know Bretons were known for their drinking habits."

"This one is." Valbanill downed another mouthful of ale.

"You killed the bandits?"

"Do you see anyone else here?" Valbanill finished the ale and tossed the bottle aside.

"But… then. Why… how… am I still alive? What did you do to me?"

"I healed you."

"Oh…" Clare wasn't sure what to say, several questions assaulted her mind. How had Valbanill killed the bandits? How had he survived the first salvo of arrows that had struck him? How had he been able to bring her back from the edge of death? Why had he bothered to?

In the daylight, Clare had gotten her clearest look at the human yet. There was a long, vertical scar running down the left side of his face. His short brown hair was showing signs of a receding hairline. There were dark bags around his eyes, as if he hadn't slept in weeks. Wrist irons were still shackled to him. His tattered prison garb was now reinforced by several leather belts wrung tightly to his slender form.

"Thank you, for saving me."

"It's nothing. I know how to play the good guy, every once in a while."

"It's not nothing." Clare went up and held out her hand. "I'm sorry. For the things I said back in the sewer."

Valbanill seized it and shook with a limp grip and a laugh. "Y-you're worried about that? No problem. That's not the first time I've been called such things. And i-it won't be the last."

Clare's stomach started to rumble. Valbanill chucked.

"You don't happen to have anything to eat?" Clare asked. "You were drinking… where'd you get—"

"The bandits had some food and drink lying around their camp." Valbanill walked over to a crate and chucked her an apple.

Clare ate the fruit voraciously.

"I doubt o-one little apple is gonna sate a big girl like you." Valbanill opened the crate. Clare scuttled over to find it filled with apples. As soon as she saw them, the Scorpion Daedra started stuffing her face with gusto.

Valbanill backed up and let Clare eat. He opened up another ale from the bandit camp and watched as the Scorpion Daedra ate. As Scorpion Daedra went, Clare looked to be just slightly smaller than the typical size—though she was still an incredibly imposing figure, especially when compared to a wispy old Breton. The skin on the upper, human portion of her body was light blue while the shell of her lower scorpion half was black. Her short hair was black and the irises of her six eyes were green with black sclera. A rather odd color combination compared to most of the folk of Tamriel, but not atypical of her race.

He finished his ale and fetched a cheese wedge from the other assortment of foods he scavenged around from the camp. Clare had finished a good portion of the apples when she looked over to the Breton and noticed him holding the diary delight.

"Cheese!" The Scorpion Daedra quickly scuttled over towards the Breton with newfound vigor. "I love cheese! Can I have some?"

Valbanill groaned. "Fine, here. Take it." He snapped off a small piece for himself before forking over the entire wedge.

Clare gnawed at the offering with intense pleasure.

"If I knew you liked cheese so much, I would have eaten that before you woke up," Valbanill admitted.

The pair continued to drain the small camp of its food and drink. Clare's single-minded focus on fending off her hunger discouraged much conversation. Valbanill finally spoke up again once they were finished.

"You still going to deliver the Amulet of Kings?"

Clare froze. "I forgot the amulet! Where is it?"

"Relax, I have it right here." Valbanill pulled the amulet from one of his pockets. He handed it over to the Scorpion Daedra. "The Emperor wanted you to have it. I don't give a damn what really happens with it. J-just thought I might hold onto it while you were out."

"Uh, thanks." Clare noticed that the tattered remains of her prison garb was not going to be able to hold the amulet. "Not, really anywhere to hold it…" She fumbled around at her shredded pockets, finding one that didn't have quite such a big hole. She put in the amulet, hoping it wouldn't fall through. Instead, the weight of the amulet caused the remains of her shirt to sag and instantly shred.

"Ack!" Clare looked down at the ground, at the tatters of her clothing. Then, she looked up and saw that Valbanill was staring intently at her chest. Clare felt her cheeks flare up and her stomach churn for an instant. She hissed and outstretched her claws in an aggressive posture as she covered her breasts with her hands.

"Hey, easy! I meant no offense." Valbanill held up his hands near his shoulders as a sign of surrender. "Take it easy, scorpion girl."

"Watch yourself, you little perv. I'll slice you in two."

"No need to get so a-angry," Valbanill was defensive. "I'm a heterosexual male. I'm predisposed to like breasts. I-t's not my fault you're topless. And if I stare then you should take it as a compliment."

Clare let loose a small little sigh. "Pardon me if I don't take the compliment gracefully," her tone oozed sarcasm.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't blame me for shit that's not my fault."

"Any clothes around here?"

"Not much."

"What about the bandits?"

"They're in bad shape."

"Better than nothing."

"I think nothing would be better."

Clare gave Valbanill a look. "Just take me to the corpses."

"Don't usually hear that everyday but okay."

The Scorpion Daedra followed the Breton past the edges of the Ayleid ruins. She found that the bandit bodies had been piled up near the edge of the water.

Upon close inspection, Clare saw that the bodies had been badly mangled. Bones had been broken; chunks of flesh and armor had been cut off. It was a horrid gore fest.

"They must have put up one hell of a fight," Clare said as she worked her way around the bodies, trying to find anything useable.

"Indeed. They certainly tried. But they aren't so tough when not pulling off sneak attacks."

There was nothing extraordinary about the bandits. Their armors were either fur or leather, and their weapons were all heavily worn out and made of iron. And it didn't help that most of the bodies were male. Clare had it bad enough trying to find something that fit, let alone something that wasn't shredded any worse than her prison clothes that had fallen apart. And it wasn't as if she needed all that much either. She only needed to cover the human portion of her body. Grieves and pants were things she was never able to wear anyway.

"What did you do to these guys? You didn't do this with that rusty old dagger you picked up."

"I got hold of one of theirs, and it all spiraled up from that. I was _really_ pissed off."

"I can see. There's like nothing I can use."

"You could always just go topless."

"I think you might like that too much." Clare scrounged up a few belts from the bodies and buckled them tightly across her chest. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

"Wow, that actually looks better than going topless."

"You just don't stop, do you?" Clare leaned her human half forward, bending at the hips where her human and scorpion parts connected. She pulled her claws up to her and cut off the irons still clamped to her wrists.

"N-not till I win. Or I die. And I'm not dead yet." Valbanill walked back towards the ruins, Clare following.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Clare asked the Breton.

Valbanill picked up the amulet and tossed it over to Clare. She looped the necklace between her belts and tied it off. The amulet hung from her chest like a gaudy war medal.

"Still gonna go deliver that thing?"

"Yeah, the Emperor entrusted it to me. I don't have a choice. Don't know why he would entrust this to me though…"

"I saw how the Blades fight. Ol' Septim probably f-figured you had a better chance of delivering the amulet in one piece."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't rightly know. I wasn't planning on ever leaving the Imperial Prison alive. Probably gonna go find me something to drink, I guess."

Clare bit at her lower lip with her left fang for a moment. Her eyes darting around from Valbanill to some butterflies fluttering about near the campsite. "I… don't know where I am."

"Vilverin," Valbanill answered simply.

"Huh?"

"That's the name of these ruins."

"Been here before?"

"No. Heard of it once though."

"So… um. I don't know where to go… I've never been to the Imperial City before they hauled me off to the prison. I've never been this far east before. I don't know how to get to Chorrol."

"Want me to tag along, huh?" Valbanill raised an eyebrow.

"I know I released you from my service when we left the sewers. But… I would appreciate some help."

Valbanill shrugged. "Sure, why not? Probably a lot of booze between here and Chorrol that I can pick up. Might as well."

"Thanks." Clare allowed herself a smile. Things were going to be miserable if she had to figure everything out on her own. And Valbanill didn't seem all that bad. He had gone out of his way to save her life, and he could fight. She could work with that.

Clare looked over in the direction of the Imperial City. Saw White-Gold Tower in the distance.

"Right. So, where should we go?"

"Not in the direction of the Imperial City." Valbanill followed Clare's gaze. "You would not be popular there on a good day and we're both newly escaped convicts. I figure it'll take a day or two for that Blade to make good on his promise and have us pardoned. I d-don't wanna get shoved back in that prison and have to break out all over again. Doubt we'd be lucky enough to be put in another cell with a secret escape route."

"Right," Clare agreed. "So—"

"We go around. But I was thinking we check out Vilverin first."

"The ruins? What for? I doubt the Ayleids have anything useful left to plunder."

"No. But the bandits might. I killed the guys up top but there might be more inside. B-bandits—" Valbanill paused to burp. "Bandits do so love to set up shop in ruins and caves. And this place is both close and far enough from the Imperial City to make a good hideout."

"So you want to go stir up a fight."

"And take all their shit. I'm sure they've got a few drinks lying around."

"Assuming there are any bandits in there. Wouldn't they have come out by now? Check on their friends up top?"

"Who knows? Probably busy having a bandit orgy in there."

Clare rubbed at her throat again. She was sore, but she could certainly fight. She just hoped she wouldn't be taking another arrow to the throat. "Might as well give it a try. We could use some supplies."

"T-that's the spirit!" Valbanill led Clare to the entrance to Vilverin. It was nothing more than a worn slab stone door.

Clare pushed open the stone door.

"Oh, hey."

Clare turned around to look at Valbanill. "What?

"Mind getting me out of these first?" He motioned at his wrist irons.

Carefully, Clare snapped off the wrist irons.

"T-thanks."

Clare went in, with Valbanill following closely behind. As soon as they were both in, the stone doors closed shut on their own, blocking out the rays of the sun and making the interior of the ruins go very dark.

"Never understood why the d-doors always do that," Valbanill paused to burp. "The Ayleids must have really h-hated the sun."

"Keep it down," Clare shushed him. "If there are bandits down there, let's try not to tip them off right away?" Clare suddenly considered that things might prove difficult traveling with Valbanill. He seemed to be a big talker, and that was going to be a problem if he didn't know when to shut up and get serious. And Clare certainly suspected he was slightly drunk. She wondered how many drinks he had downed while she was asleep.

Clare was careful as she scaled down the stairs. They were heavily worn down and many were broken. A long plank of wood had been placed to serve as a bridge where the floor had become too damaged. The stairs spiraled all the way to the right. Clare peered down over the edge and noticed some glowing crystals at bottom, providing weak lighting.

 _Tick-tick-tick-tick._ The ends of Clare's eight scorpion legs quietly sounded off on the stone steps.

 _Clunk._ That wasn't right.

A large object suddenly swung into Clare's view. Her reflexes kicked in and she caught it in her claws right before it smashed into her.

It was a wooden log covered in spikes. Clare looked down to see she had stepped on a pressure plate that someone set up.

"Someone doesn't want any company," Clare whispered.

She gently released the spiked log and let it dangle by its chain as she brushed by and continued down the stairs.

Valbanill smiled as he followed behind Clare. There were people down there. And they wanted to be left alone. And that surely meant they had stuff worth taking… and that always included alcohol.

They stopped at a landing with a wooden table. Clare quickly and quietly ate the food the table had to offer and pointed at an iron shield carelessly laying on top. She didn't need it, but it looked like it would suit Valbanill just fine. The Breton took it and they continued downward.

 _Tick-tick-tick-tick._ Clare tried to stay as silent as she could. She swore she could hear voices up ahead. Things would be so much easier if she had the element of surprise this time.

 _Snap._ Clare felt a weak pressure release from under her. She looked down and saw a tripwire had snapped under her.

In an instant, Clare heard Valbanill grunt in pain, and the Breton was suddenly thrown up against her back. At the same time, another object had struck her from behind; only this one was metal and covered in spikes. The force of the blow combined with Valbanill caused Clare to freeze up but she lost her balance and fell forward.

The Scorpion Daedra and the Breton fell down the stairs in a tangled heap.

"What was that?"

"It came from the stairs!"

They could hear voices… and footsteps.

The world around her was woozy and wobbling and spinning. Clare groaned. It felt like she had landed on something.

"G-get off of me!" Valbanill demanded.

Clare did her best to right herself up—and just in time, the bandits had appeared to attack.

"So much for the element of surprise," Valbanill complained. "Fuckin' swinging mace traps." Still pinned on the floor, the Breton was able to look back to see two maces on chains swaying back and forth.

The first of the bandits were right upon them. Clare grabbed Valbanill with her claws and pulled him up the steps. Clare started to skitter backwards up the steps, hoisting up Valbanill with her claws.

She grabbed his slender body with her hands and hoisted him over her shoulder, where he quickly and awkwardly fell over her back and onto her scorpion body. He tried to grab on to her segmented shell.

Clare fended off the swords of the first two bandits with her claws. Going up the stairway, the bandits had no other direction to attack from. But Clare was having a hard time recovering from the fall and Valbanill failing around on her back wasn't making things any easier.

She roared and snapped one of the bandit's swords with her claws. But the bandit instantly pulled a dagger and kept attacking her anyway with suicidal fervor. She sprang her right claw forward and caught him in the deltoid muscle. Clare pulled her claw out and the bandit fell backwards into the others below.

Suddenly, there were more combat calls, but these came not from the living, but the dead. They were sounds Clare had heard a little too recently for her taste: the creaks, groans and hissing of skeletons.

Two undead warriors had appeared behind the group of bandits. One brandished an iron war-axe, while the other had a steel war-axe. They didn't look like much, until they sank their weapons into the soft fur armor of the bandits.

Half the bandits' attention was now turned away from the Scorpion Daedra, and Clare wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation. She heaved her weight forward, smashing into the other sword-wielder. He flew back into the other bandits, causing most of them to end up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs with the two skeletons.

Two arrows flew in Clare's directions, but luckily both missed. Clare hissed as she saw the two archers. She had no desire to be shot in the throat again. One of the skeletons lodged its war-axe deep into one of the archers. The other turned and fired at the undead attacker, only for the arrow to bounce harmlessly off the skeleton's ribs.

That meant that Clare no longer had any arrows flying at her, and she rushed to utilize that advantage. She charged at the melee fighters, cutting into them as quickly as she could.

The uninjured archer turned her attention away from the skeletons and back towards Clare. The Scorpion Daedra dashed in just as another arrow was notched. Clare managed to graze the bandit in the stomach with her claw, causing the arrow to go wild.

A heavily armored bandit with a battle-axe, charged at Clare, swiping at her legs. Clare saw the attack and moved her body with the blow, the axe only scoring a glancing strike on her armored legs.

Meanwhile, Valbanill hadn't even pulled himself off the ground. He just crawled through the mess as the Scorpion Daedra and the skeletons fought with the bandits. He grabbed one of the misfired arrows off of the floor and crawled over towards the remaining archer. Completely unnoticed by his preoccupied prey, Valbanill crawled right up to her and drove the arrow deep into her foot. The Altmer cried out in pain. Before she could react to the attack, Valbanill drove himself upward and tackled her to the floor. He held her on the ground until one of the skeletons wandered over and drove its war-axe into her skull.

Clare locked her claws on the armored bandit's battle-axe. He put up a surprising fight to keep his weapon, but she was ultimately able to wrestle it away. Just as she snapped the axe in half with her claws, the bandit pulled a dagger and lunged at her. She hit him with a glancing blow, but the bandit was able to sink his dagger into her side as he was tossed aside.

The Scorpion Daedra's eyes winced in pain and she ground her teeth and she charged at the bandit before he could recover. She pinned him to the ground, put a claw to his neck, and released his head from his body in one quick pinch.

Clare let out a few ragged breaths as she turned around to face the next opponent, only to find Valbanill and the two skeletons. The undead creatures didn't move to attack, only stood flanking Valbanill like a pair of bodyguards. Clare just stared for a moment until the skeletons both let out a hiss, and then suddenly started to collapse, only for their bones to fade to nothingness before they hit the ground.

"Not a necromancer, huh?" Clare dropped her eyes from Valbanill for a moment to make sure the Amulet of Kings hadn't fallen away during the battle.

"What? So I know the Summon Skeleton spell. What of it? Doesn't automatically m-make me a necromancer. Just means I know a little something about the school of Conjuration."

Looking back at the wispy Breton, Clare noticed Valbanill's eyes drifting from her face downward, towards her wound.

"You need help with that?"

"I don't know any healing spells," Clare admitted. She could feel her blood slowly oozing from her side.

"A-a-alright. Let me take a look at this." Valbanill sauntered over. He casually went right in-between her claws and right up to her. Past her claws was something Clare Sadlygrove always considered her personal space. No one was ever this close to her unless it was a messy fight. But this was of course, going to be an exception.

"You just can't keep from getting hurt, can you?" Valbanill examined the dagger stuck in Clare for a second. "Let's see, let's see." He started to run his hand gently down her side.

"You see with your hands, rather than your eyes?" Clare asked.

"Checking you out. Hmmm…"

Clare tolerated the contact. It was a strange feeling. She was not accustomed to being touched often, and certainly not in a gentle way. She noticed he kept going back over her ribs.

"Yep, okay. Y-yeah. He got you right under the ribcage. N-not sure if he got anything important, but it really doesn't matter."

"It does to me." Clare let out a pained groan.

"Not in a moment, it won't. I'm gonna-gonna pull the dagger out now. Ready?"

Clare sucked in air. "Yeah, do it."

Valbanill swiftly removed the dagger and Clare winced. He then immediately put his hand firmly over the wound and suddenly Clare's side was radiating with a pale blue light.

"Just give my healing spell a moment. This isn't too bad."

Clare relaxed and slowed her breathing. The pain was subsiding. The spell felt a little odd, but nice. She could feel the wound sealing up.

The blue light subsided and the odd magical feeling (and the pain) was gone. Valbanill slowly pulled his hand away.

Clare let out a sigh of content. "That felt nice. I'm gonna have to keep you around."

"Oh, my hands could make you feel a whole lot nicer than that."

"Don't press your luck, Valbanill." Clare wiped the blood off her side as best she could. Not even a scar was left. It was as if she hadn't been stabbed at all. Valbanill was clearly a strong healer.

"A-alright, alright. Your loss." Valbanill backed away, retreating past the natural barrier of personal space Clare's claw arms provided. "L-let's—" Valbanill let out a burp. "Let's go see what we've won, shall we?"

Clare followed Valbanill as he looked over the corpses of the bandits. He picked up an iron war-axe from the bloodstained floor. "This will do just nicely. Could 'a had that battle-axe the ringleader had, if you hadn't s-snapped it in two."

"So sorry," Clare wasn't sorry at all. "I was busy just trying to survive the fight."

The pair continued past the entryway and into the main hall. There were bedrolls, barrels, chests, food, and drink lying everywhere.

"I-I called it!" Valbanill seized a bottle of cheap wine. "I so called it!"

"Don't go drinking every bottle you see," Clare warned.

"What are you, my mother?"

"There still might be other bandits around. You need to be right in the head in order to fight."

"I fight better drunk. B-besides, we probably already t-took care of every bandit in the entire ruins. They all came rushing in at us right from the start. Could you be any louder? They can hear your clanky ass all the way over in Morrowind."

"I'm sorry. I'm not well practiced in slithering around like a coward. And your sneaking skills leave a lot to be desired," Clare retorted. "And I got hit by that mace trap, which caught you too."

"Big deal." Valbanill finished the bottle of wine and moved on to another one sitting on a wooden table. "We're both alive. And that calls for a drink… or two… or three."

Clare rolled her six eyes, and then noticed a dirty scroll, which she quickly picked up and read.

 _Some of the men were worried about these old ruins being haunted, but Mephala take them—this spot's going to be perfect for ambushing merchants along the road. And all under the nose of the Imperial Legion!_

 _Finally got some of those big blue stones down today. Berenice got the idea to shoot them down with her bow. Got 'em all here with me. I don't know what they are, but they stink of magicka. Bet they'll fetch a nice price with the Mage's Guild._

 _Two-Coins and that Khajiit from Vvardenfell set up their camps down in the tomb. Fine by me, spares the rest of us the smell._

 _Two-Coins ran up today, the Khajiit's gone missing. Swore to the Nine that you could hear claws scrabbling at limestone, but nothing's down there. I'm guessing she got tired of the smell and snuck out overnight. Two-Coins' stench could peel shells off mudcrabs—I'm surprised she hung around that long._

"Huh, guess there's still stuff in these ruins left to loot. And the bandits were using Vilverin to ambush merchants."

"Told you." Valbanill finished his bottle.

Clare let out a little laugh. "Guess we did our good deed for the day."

"And good deeds deserve rewards. I say we go further in and see what else this old place has to offer."

"What? We don't have enough here?" Clare seized a locked chest with her might claws and snapped it in half, causing gold to spill out onto the floor. "I've got no pockets. Could you get that for me?"

Valbanill grumbled as he went over and started picking up the gold coins one by one. "Did you have to make such a fucking mess?"

Clare ate the food at the table while she watched Valbanill pick up the gold. Once Valbanill was finished, Clare felt her hunger was finally sated, though now there wasn't any food left to take with them to eat later.

"Hmm, I guess we could go exploring a little more. Maybe they have some spare food stored further below."

"Or more booze," Valbanill added. "Besides? What coward exits ruins after only going down to the first level?"

Clare picked up a pack lying on the floor. She opened it up and rummaged around, only to find that it was empty. She tossed it over to Valbanill. "Here, take that. So we can carry some stuff."

Valbanill strapped the pack to his back and put the gold he had collected off the floor into a coin purse on the table.

Once they were all set, they went down a flight of stairs. In the next room over they had found that several barrels had been broken open. There was cheese and lettuce everywhere.

"Lettuce and cheese?" Clare asked. "I wonder what they were going to make with all of this?"

"Perhaps they recently robbed a lettuce and cheese merchant," Valbanill suggested.

They stuffed what they could into Valbanill's pack and ate the rest.

Things were quiet as they twisted their way down further into the depths of Vilverin. They reached a stone door with the engraving of a glowing tree on it. Clare pushed through with Valbanill right behind her.

Past the door it was nearly pitch-black. Even Clare had a difficult time seeing. The Scorpion Daedra could hear Valbanill cast a spell behind her, no doubt that sight spell he had used back in the Imperial Sewers.

Clare was able to see just enough to keep going, the short hall curved to the left quickly enough. Up ahead there were lights. One light source came from a small fire on the right, the other up ahead, a wilted blue aura that illuminated an Ayleid cask.

"Who's there?" they heard a voice.

"Just some of your bandit buddies," Clare lied through her teeth as she skittered forward.

"Yep, just two bandits, out banditing it up," Valbanill added.

"Could you at least try and be convincing?" Clare snared at the Breton.

"I was no less convincing than you."

Just as Clare reached the Ayleid cask, there was movement on her right. An iron battle-axe collided with her side. The blow glanced off her natural armor but Clare was stumbled to the side. She quickly recovered and struck at the bandit. Her claws snapped at the axe and she drove her stinger into the bandit's chest.

"No, please! I surrender!" the bandit started to limp away.

Clare let him go but Valbanill summoned a skeleton that delivered the final blow to their defeated foe.

"That was rather heartless," Clare said as she fiddled with the old Ayleid container.

"Just being cautious. H-he could have been going back to warn his friends."

"If there are even any left," Clare interjected.

"Doesn't hurt to be careful. Let an enemy live and they'll return to stab you in the back. I-I would have thought a Scorpion Daedra of all people would have more sense.

"Judge me by my race, huh? Tell me, does me being a Scorpion Daedra mean that I'm supposed to act a certain way? Believe certain things?"

"No. Just incorrectly assuming you had some common sense."

"Hey now, I let you live, if you remember."

"And I appreciate it."

Clare managed to break open the ancient container, finding several flawed jewels inside, which she then gave to Valbanill to hold on to.

"So, you're saying you would not be so merciful with me if our situation back in the sewers was reversed?" Clare asked.

"I was just following you. This g-guy-guy, stupid dead guy attacked us."

Clare chucked. "I injected him with my poison. He was no threat to us any longer."

"And you call me heartless. Maybe he had a potion of Cure Poison lying around. Who knows?"

Clare considered what Valbanill said. He had a point, yet she couldn't help but feel that he was being overly cautious and a little paranoid. Or perhaps he just liked killing. She'd have to reserve judgment of him for later. They continued to try and delve further into Vilverin, only to find themselves at an impasse.

"Where do we go from here?" Clare asked. "We're going around in circles."

"D-damn ass Ayleids were drunk off their asses when they d-d-designed this place."

"You're one to talk," Clare said. "I told you to lay off the booze."

"I'm f-fine. Just lemme… think."

A few more minutes of looking around and Clare was starting to get bored. It looked like they were going to have to go back up the way they came.

"Found it!" Clare could hear stone moving as soon as Valbanill shouted.

"Found what?" Clare asked as she skittered over towards where the Breton was.

"Pressure plate. Opened up a secret route."

They made their way through the secret hall only to be emptied out into a large room lit by a massive metal chandelier holding several glowing crystals. In the center of the room they found a dead Khajiit bandit.

"Something happened here."

"Ya think?" Valbanill asked.

"Something else is down in here. Something worse than bandits."

"Yay," Valbanill cheered with sarcastic enthusiasm. "I wonder who else we'll get to kill today."

Clare gave the Breton a look.

They continued onward, finding that they had to walk over yet another pressure plate in order to advance further.

Making their way further in, Valbanill paused. "I smell the undead."

"I smell them too," Clare nodded.

As if on cue, two skeletons wielding war-axes and a skeleton archer appeared to challenge them.

Valbanill summoned a pair of his own skeletons. The skeletons started hissing and creaking at each other. At first Clare had paused to let Valbanill's minions do the fighting… but the problem was they weren't fighting.

"Uh, Valbanill, what's going on? Why aren't they fighting?"

"Something, something. Let me see," the Breton was mostly muttering to himself. "Something about that aura? Ahhh."

The wispy Breton wandered over to the group of skeletons and to Clare's surprise, started talking with them.

All the skeletons turned and started to leave. Valbanill turned back to Clare. "C'mon. We're following them."

The Scorpion Daedra was stunned. "W-what in Oblivion just happened?"

"The skeletons are going to take us to their leader."

Clare just stared at Valbanill as if he had sprouted a second head.

"W-w-what? Don't look at me like that. Not everything is solved by violence."

Clare followed. "This. Coming from you?"

* * *

They followed the skeletons all the way to the end of the ruins where they were finally stopped in a large room.

Valbanill's skeletons had long since dissipated, and they were now surrounded by ten of the other's undead warriors. Clare couldn't help but think that this could very well be a trap.

"Jakrelkill Valbanill."

A Redguard clad in black robes wandered out from the darkness.

"Jalbert. Were you w-waiting in the shadows that whole time just to make that lackluster entrance?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Killin' bandits and drinkin' beer. And I'm all out of bandits… and beer."

"You mean my test subjects?"

" _You're_ test subjects? Finders keepers. Losers weepers."

"Just as crass and clumsy as ever, I see," the Redguard retorted. "You have all the finesse of a drunken Orc bricklayer."

"And at the rate you go, the bandits would die of old age before you got to them all."

"I see you've taken to conjuring Daedra now," Jalbert looked over at the Scorpion Daedra that at up until this point had been ignored.

"So, you two know each other?" Clare crossed her arms over her chest.

"What possibly gave it away?" Jalbert asked with savage sarcasm. "You sure got a winner here, Valbanill. She sounds just like something your drunk ass would conjure."

"I take it you're a necromancer, Jalbert?" Clare asked.

"Of course. I would have thought all the skeletons would have given that away."

Clare looked over at the Breton. "And you, Valbanill?"

Valbanill didn't answer.

"Of course he is," the Redguard answered for the Breton. "How in the world would you not know? Valbanill, your minions are dumber than you are."

Clare burst forward and seized Valbanill in her claws and raised him up. Jalbert and his horde of skeletons raised their weapons.

"You lied to me!" Clare spat.

"H-hang on, now." Valbanill wheezed as the Scorpion Daedra's claws squeezed him harder.

"Valbanill, control your thrall, right now," Jalbert sternly said.

"Back off! You attack me and I'll cut him in two," Clare warned.

Jalbert simply started to laugh.

"Huh? What's so fucking funny?" Clare was confused.

"You think I give a fuck what happens to him? Go ahead."

"Fuck you, Jalbert! You stupid son of a bitch!" Valbanill yelled. "You dumbass! You think you're going to beat this Scorpion Daedra here, you've got another thing coming!"

Despite how pissed she was, Clare couldn't help but feel flattered by the comment.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Clare asked.

"What did it matter?" Valbanill said. "Necromancy is l-legal in Cyrodiil."

"Then why lie?"

"Because of the stigma, of course. What else? I-I-I w-would think that a Scorpion Daedra of all people would understand that."

Clare let out a breath of air she'd been holding in. He was right. She lowered the Breton to the floor and released her grip on him.

Jalbert just laughed.

"Hey, shut up, Jalbert!" Valbanill yelled.

"Leave this place," the Redguard necromancer said. "We have no business to conduct and you're wasting my time."

"Oh, wow. Look at you. Yeah, you must be soooo busy hiding out here slowly picking off bandits one by one. Cause your research must be ever so important. Got any booze?"

"I'm not a merchant looking to trade, Valbanill. And you have nothing I want. Leave now, while I am still being cordial."

"Very well," Valbanill grumbled. "We will leave, while _I'm_ still being cordial."

Clare was tense, given the way these two acted and the fact that they were both necromancers, she was expecting that things still might devolve into a fight at any time.

"My skeletons will show you out."

"Okay, have fun rotting away in this dungeon by yourself." Valbanill waved as he and Clare followed the skeletons out.

* * *

The skeletons left the Scorpion Daedra and the Breton peacefully once they reached the entrance to Vilverin. Walking back outside, and Clare once again found Masser and Secunda hanging up in the night sky.

Valbanill started walking towards the lake. Clare followed.

"You lied to me."

"B-big deal, everyone lies."

"How can I trust anything you say?" Clare asked in a serious tone.

"How can you trust anything anyone says?" Valbanill countered. "A-all manner of people will betray you and stab you in the back. If I was going to do that, I would have just let you die from the start. You fool."

"Yeah… you healed me. But… What else?" Clare hissed.

"I put you to bed so you wouldn't catch your death of cold."

"… You didn't do, anything else?"

"I did nothing inappropriate, if that's what you're asking. I'm not a rapist."

"And how do I know that's not a lie?"

"You have to decide if you trust me or not."

"I… I don't think I've made up my mind about you."

"I saved your life. What more do you want from me, woman?" Valbanill stopped walking along the edge of the water and turned to face Clare.

Valbanill just stood there with this weird expression on his face. She couldn't quite place it. She would have guessed he might be angry but he looked… sad… defeated?

"It's hard to trust a necromancer. I've dealt with them before," Clare admitted.

"Was any of those necromancers me? I don't think so."

"Let's see if you can be honest with me. How did you kill those bandits? The ones up top that shot us full of arrows."

"Healing spell to save myself. Summoned a bunch of skeletons to kill them. Then healed you. Not much to it."

Clare sighed. He _did_ save her. It certainly felt like he was telling the truth. Even if he was a necromancer, he was apparently a descent person… sort of. "I trust you enough to keep traveling with you. So c'mon. Where do we go from here?"


	3. Fort Chalman

**Chapter 3: Fort Chalman**

"Gods damn it! Don't leave me behind!" Valbanill yelled. Clare could hear Valbanill's voice close behind her. It was good the necromancer hadn't fallen too far behind, or it would be the end of him. She wouldn't be able to turn around and bail him out if he got caught now.

Clare Sadlygrove's eight legs skittered over the grassy plains as fast as they could and for a very good reason. The Scorpion Daedra and her necromancer companion were on the run from herd of Minotaurs.

"Why don't you summon up some skeletons to distract them?" Clare countered.

"I already did! You're supposed to be an unstoppable scorpion woman. Why don't you quit running like a stunted scamp and fight?"

"I can't fight twenty Minotaurs at once!" Clare snapped.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't stopped to pick the flowers!" Valbanill complained.

"Hey, I was gonna eat those flowers!"

Up ahead was an old Fort. Decay had set in from what looked to be generations of disuse. Clare had no idea as to its name but it certainly wasn't relevant at the moment. As far as she cared it looked as good as home at the moment. The grassy hills leading up to the Fort slowed both the pursued and the pursuers, and they passing by more flowers Clare would have liked to eat. Her scorpion legs clacked on the old stairs leading to the Fort. Stairs that had been slowly being eaten away by nature and the passage of time.

Clare spared a quick glance back, seeing White-Gold Tower getting smaller and smaller in the distance. They were going the wrong way; that much she was aware. Though the quest to deliver the Amulet of Kings was about to come to an abrupt end if they couldn't do something about the herd of Minotaurs that followed close behind.

Clare got through archway leading into the Fort, Valbanill so close behind he could have grabbed onto her tail. There were four massive pillars propping up several upper levels of the Fort and Clare noticed two stairways on opposite sides. For a split-second she considered dashing for the stairs and making for the high ground. But her six eyes quickly focused with deadly precision on the old wooden doors directly ahead of her.

The Scorpion Daedra kept up her high speed and bolted through the old wooden doors to interior of the Fort. Once inside, she finally ground to a halt, and just in time—she had nearly fallen down a flight of stairs. She turned around just in time for her Breton companion to smash right into her. Valbanill got past her outstretched claws and smashed right up against her stomach. She pushed him back first with her human arms, and then pushed him further back with her claws.

"Why are we stopping?" he demanded.

Clare looked back out towards the entrance to the Fort. "To fight them in a narrow space, so they all can't attack us at once. _If_ we were going to fight."

" _If_? Are you mad? We're fucked! We're _fucked_! How can this be the end of our story already? We just got started! No grand finale, no love story, no dramatic death saving Mundus from Oblivion in some final battle, just dying at the meaty hands of some smelly bull-men. It's bullshit!" Valbanill took noticed of a small smile that formed on Clare's face. The necromancer turned around and followed her gaze. And then he had noticed what the Scorpion Daedra saw.

The Minotaurs had stopped at the entrance to the Fort. They would not put one hoof inside. They grunted and snorted but did not make a move to advance any further.

"They're not f-following," Valbanill drunkenly stated the obvious.

"They won't enter this place."

"What do w-we do now?" Valbanill looked back towards the Scorpion Daedra but then quickly turned back to keep his eyes on the Minotaurs in case they started advancing again.

"I guess we're stuck, for the moment. They'll either gather up their courage and follow us in, or we'll have to wait until they leave."

"Well, that's just great…" Valbanill started to slur for a second, his mind taking a momentary break, but then he seemed to put himself back together. "I might try shooting some ranged spells at them."

"That might entice them to follow us in here," Clare stated.

Valbanill groaned. "Might work. I thought we were just going to keep running. There may be something in this old Fort that is strong enough to kill the likes of them."

"Something _is_ in here," Clare said with confidence. "Something that spooks them. Or they would have kept charging."

"What a comforting thought," Valbanill said. "We've traded one challenge for another. Oh joy." He burped.

An adventurous idea jolted Clare's thoughts. She looked over at the necromancer. "Wanna go explore the Fort?"

"Are you mad, woman? You wanna go find what creeps out the herd of Minotaurs? D-d-do you have a death wish?"

Clare shrugged her shoulders. "What else are we going to do? Have a staring context with them until the sun goes down?" She motioned back over towards the Minotaurs glaring at them from the entrance. "And if we go inside, they might decide to leave after a while."

Valbanill simply grumbled and mumbled to himself. Clare couldn't quite make it out.

"There might be some booze stored away in some chests lying around the Fort," Clare suggested.

"B-booze! Alright, you won me over, Sadlygrove."

Clare chuckled. "Apparently, that's not hard to do." Clare guessed all she had to do was mention liquid intoxicants and she could get the necromancer to do nearly anything. Such a companion could prove useful and entertaining.

"Right. Hey! Screw you, ya fuckin' smelly heifers!" Valbanill yelled at the Minotaurs and then the Breton grabbed the loop-style door pulls and closed the wooden doors shut.

A near total gloom enveloped them as soon as the doors closed as if day were suddenly purged and night was summoned by a magical spell. It took Clare's six eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness.

Clare took the lead down flight of stairs. She reached the landing that was covered in cracked and destroyed tiles. Two fire bowls embedded in the wall fixtures were home to some sizzling blue flames, giving a lazy blue/green mist that provided the only light in which they could see. It hung in the air like the shadow of a poisonous mist, almost looking like a warning to any who dared enter that the Fort was home to redolent ghosts and horrific memories of the past that were better left undisturbed. It was magical fire, designed to provide lighting for a very long time, which was certainly the case since the silent flames were still burning.

Clare couldn't help but notice the Fort wasn't even in any better condition than Vilverin had been, though the latter was considerably older.

"Minotaurs suck," Clare said. She was a tad embarrassed. She could have easily taken on a Minotaur, even two or three. But fighting a whole herd at once was beyond stupid. Still, she didn't like having to run from a fight. It was not something she was used to doing. She was used to having her enemies run from her, not the other way around.

"At least it wasn't a clutch of angry chickens."

"You've been chased by chickens?"

"Who hasn't? Such hateful birds."

"Well fuck all else." Clare couldn't help but let out a small laugh. The thought of Jakrelkill Valbanill being chased around by a swarm of irate chickens made her heart feel all warm and fuzzy.

Clare wondered how Valbanill could have even gotten in such a situation as she descended another flight of stairs. She could hear the necromancer's irregular footsteps behind her. She remembered that he was not exactly an avatar of stealth, and him being tipsy wasn't going to help things. But Clare remembered that he _always_ seemed to be a little tipsy. They were not going to be sneaking up on whatever inhabited this Fort. But after taking a right down the hall, Clare considered that maybe they didn't need to be stealthy.

She was faced with a rat. The vile rodent instantly took notice of her and mindlessly attacked, as if some unseen force were compelling the creature to throw its life away. Clare killed it with a single swipe of her claws. Valbanill was barely even able to register that a rat was there in the time it took Clare to dispatch it.

"Ah, this is what must have scarred the Minotaurs away," Clare suggested in a snarky tone.

"I'm sure it was. You just defeated the Lord of the Fort. King Rattata, of the Rat People, bane of the Minotaurs. Now we can go on and safely loot his kingdom, by which I mean get the booze lying around," Valbanill said with false hope. Both Valbanill and Clare knew the truth; it was not going to be this easy. Something else was in here. The Minotaurs were not scared for nothing.

Large spider webs hung around the stone walls. There were more burning blue flames nestled in fire bowls to provide them with more weak illumination as they continued further in. They took a flight of stairs down, and were led down a hallway.

The hallway led them to a short bridge.

"See anything?" Valbanill quietly asked as they crossed.

"You're asking me?"

"Who else is here, Sadlygrove? I swear, sometimes I worry about you."

"I meant why don't you cast your sight spell like you did before, sometimes I worry about you, Valbanill."

"Okay, you got me, I'm being a lazy ass."

"Either that or you're so drunk you can't recall what spells you know."

"That too."

Clare wondered if Valbanill was being serious or not. If he really couldn't remember all the spells at his command, it certainly wouldn't be a surprise to her. After reaching the end of the bridge, Clare found a narrow stairway on her the left. The stairs were simply too narrow to allow her proper access, though she would have no problem simply scaling down the wall with her scorpion legs. But Clare paused before she began her ascent. She caught sight of a threat down on the lower level below.

"A skeleton," Clare said softly to Valbanill.

The Scorpion Daedra had not spoken softly enough, apparently. The skeleton archer turned around and notched an arrow.

"It sees us!" Clare warned as she crawled down the side of the wall at speed, barely avoiding the arrow that was sent flying her way.

The skeleton archer was quick to send another arrow flying, this time towards the necromancer.

"Why don't you go over and make friends?" Clare asked.

"What happened to our plan of murder and violence? We were gonna massacre whatever was in here!" Valbanill protested.

"Not if we don't have to!"

"You're just afraid of getting another arrow in the throat." A third arrow nearly connected with Valbanill's right arm.

Clare charged the skeleton, seized it in her large black scorpion claws, and smashed the undead archer until the broke against the ground.

"Am not," Clare looked over at her companion in the dark. "I've got my special little healer right here. Not too worried about the arrows."

She looked around for any more opponents and found none. So far so good. Clare skittered forward to an archway that led to the right, up a set of stairs to a dead end that terminated with a stone coffin. There was an old wooden chest off to the side of the coffin.

"Find anything?" Valbanill asked.

"A chest." Clare tried to open it, but found it to be locked. "It's locked though. You're good with this sort of thing, right?"

"And you can't just b-break the thing open?"

"And risk shattered the bottles of booze inside? Okay… if that's the risk you want to take…"

"H-hey, wait up now. I'll handle it."

Clare smirked as she moved over a bit to give the necromancer room to get past her. It _was_ easy to get him to do what she wanted. She had brought up a completely valid point though. Her usual method of opening locked chests did often result in broken contents. And Clare was being careful, she did not want to lose any potential boon she might gain. They still didn't know if they would have to end up fighting the Minotaurs waiting outside or not.

The Scorpion Daedra was expecting the Breton to work his lockpick magic, but instead, he used his magicka. He hit the chest with a spell and it was enveloped in a white glow for a short moment. He opened up the chest and reached in.

"Just some gold," Valbanill sounded disappointed.

"I was hoping for something we might use against the Minotaurs."

"Maybe it'll help. Maybe we can bribe them to leave us alone," Valbanill offered jokingly.

"I think we'd need more gold than that to bribe Minotaurs."

"Nah, there's dumb. They'd take this and be happy with it just because it's nice and shiny." Valbanill pocketed the gold.

With nowhere else to go, they turned back around to the narrow staircase, where they noticed another doorway on the opposite end of the room. They went through, wary of the possibility of more skeletons. Where there was one, there was always more, though not in the particularly short hallway they traversed. At end of the short hall, they came across two stone coffins and another chest. Clare tried it and found that unlike the previous one, this chest was unlocked. But like the previous one, this chest also held nothing more than a few bits of gold. Clare idly scratched at her short hair for a second while Valbanill collected the few meager coins. This was not the treasure hunt either of them was hoping for.

"I was hoping we might find a few weapons," Clare admitted.

"Bah," Valbanill snorted. "You're all the weapon we need."

"Wow, Valbanill. You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl."

"N-now, what we really need is t-to find some b-b-booze."

Clare shook her head in mock contempt. "Such a way with words. Stumbling over them with such drunken elegance."

From the two stone coffins, they took a right through a short hall leading to a bridge. Valbanill had taken the lead, Clare wasn't sure why he decided to bolt ahead of her, or rather she did know. He was getting anxious to actually find some alcohol lying around. Clare had tried to stay out in front in case they were confronted with a serious fight, but she was sure Valbanill could take care of himself.

She was instantly proven wrong. One moment Valbanill was walking over the bridge and a split second later a swinging mace on a chain knocked him right off to the lower level. She noticed that the necromancer had stepped on a pressure plate on the bridge.

Clare looked down. "Valbanill. You alright?"

"What do you think?" He griped.

"I'm gonna say no." Trying to peer down at him in the near-darkness, she quickly noticed that he was not alone. The shadows she thought were playing tricks with her eyes had come alive with movement. There were several skeletons down on the level where Valbanill had fallen!

"Valbanill! Get up! Skeletons!" Clare quickly skittered down the side of the wall to help him.

Clare didn't even think; she didn't have time to. Her razor claws did what came natural. The Scorpion Daedra started tearing into the skeletons. The large room echoed with the creaking and shrieking of the undead warriors. Clare couldn't tell how many there were, the first three were easy prey, but then a pair of skeleton guardians protecting themselves with steel shields slowed her combat spree.

There was a large central pillar in the room, no doubt hiding more skeletons on the other side. And there were more, though the one that rounded the side of the pillar from the left was much more powerful than what Clare was currently dealing with.

"Watch out!" Valbanill warned, the necromancer had gotten back up and was finally helping Clare fight.

"What do you think I'm doing?"

"That skeleton coming in, it's a berserker!"

Still trying to finish off a skeleton guardian, Clare spared a glance at the approaching opponent. It was a large Orc skeleton. "How can you tell it's a berserker?"

"T-that it's dual-wielding a warhammer and a battle-axe kinda gives it away."

And then the berserker was upon her. It smashed at one of her claws with a rusted iron warhammer. The blow hurt, a lot. Clare could feel the strength of the skeleton berserker from that blow, and it was much stronger than it had any right to be. Clare hit back with even great force, stagger the Orc skeleton back a step. She tried to strike again and found herself hit from the side by another skeleton.

"O-h shit… Sadlygrove, we've got a p-problem."

"As if I didn't already know." Clare heard several lightning spells go off. Valbanill must have finally decided to get serious.

"On your right!" Valbanill yelled. "Move!"

Clare did what Valbanill said without thinking, and a second later a large skeleton whizzed by her. It smashed into the stone wall, cracking it. Turning around, Clare saw that it was a Minotaur skeleton.

"Could this get any worse?" Clare mumbled. She was beginning to understand why the Minotaurs had refused to enter the Fort. The place was a deathtrap.

The Minotaur skeleton charged again, this time crashing straight into Clare. The force of the blow nearly sent her tumbling on her back, but she managed the grab onto the skeleton's mangled horns with her claws and she jerked the undead Minotaur to the side. The bony adversary tried to free itself, but Clare's scorpion claws maintained a death grip. The both shook and rattled each other; Clare tried to rip off the skeleton's head and the Minotaur trying to free itself.

There was a sudden flash of violent, freezing mist. Clare saw that Valbanill had cast a frost spell on the Minotaur skeleton. Its movements had slowed and its strength had weakened. Clare gave one more powerful jerk and was able to snap the frosted skeleton's head off in one ragged break.

The skeleton berserker attacked again. Occupied with the berserker, Clare still managed to see something out of her periphery vision. A large shadow had fallen and she heard Valbanill yelp. Something had fallen on him; that was for sure.

The berserker struck with its ebony battle-axe, the blade broke through Clare's armored shell and became deeply embedded in her claw. Clare howled in pain as the skeleton tried to remove its weapon for another strike, instead the axe broke at the handle, leaving the blade stuck in the Scorpion Daedra's claw. The skeleton struck instead with its iron warhammer, hitting Clare's other claw so hard that the head of the hammer broke off and went flying.

Fueled by pain and rage Clare was able to catch the skeleton berserker in one of her claws and she dragged it down to the floor. She tried to remove its head but the skeleton moved and instead she struck it in the shoulder. Another thrust of her claw and she caught the berserker square in the skull and with her immense strength she cut the skull in half. The rest of the bony body hung limp, completely dead without the head intact.

Running on nothing left but pure pain and adrenalin, Clare saw that there were still a few skeletons left. Though the sounds of Valbanill struggling caused Clare to notice just what had fallen from the ceiling—and it was one of the last things she expected to see: the skeleton of a Scorpion Daedra.

Clare swore under her breath. Reanimated skeletal remains of Daedra were dangerous, and Scorpion Daedra skeletons were particular powerful. And this one had Valbanill struggling in its claws. The spindly little necromancer could be cut in half any moment. Clare hissed and charged with all the strength she had left.

Valbanill and the skeleton Scorpion Daedra lit up in a flash rainbow of colors so bright it nearly blinded Clare. The skeleton dropped the necromancer and Clare was able to make sense of what had happened. She wasn't sure how, but the Breton had been able to cast a litany of spells in quick succession. Clare had no idea how he had been able to do it so fast. He clearly cast several on himself and unleashed multiple touch-based attacks on the skeleton while it had him in its claws. The Scorpion Daedra skeleton was howling in rage and frustration. Clare tackled it head-on.

The two scorpions locked claws, skittering around the central pillar in the room in a deadly dance. There was an unbearable amount of pain in her claw that still had part of the ebony axe stuck in it. Clare couldn't concentrate; all she could do was hold the lock with the skeleton's claws and struggle back and forth. The strength behind her opponent was ridiculous. With the pain shooting through her claw and exhaustion setting in, Clare knew she wasn't going to last much longer. Nor was she sure she could beat the skeleton in a contest of strength. They were too evenly matched.

A massive jolt of lightning struck the scorpion skeleton, Clare could feel the power of the attack as part of it transferred to her through their locked claws. She swore to herself Valbanill was going to pay for that later. More skeletons came shrieking, but instead of attacking Clare, they went after the skeletal Scorpion Daedra. Clare's opponent broke the lock to deal with its new adversaries.

Clare skittered back, struggling to catch her breath. She noticed Valbanill summoning his own skeleton minions all over the place, but the enemy skeletons were able to dispatch them as quickly as he summoned them.

The skeleton Daedra wasn't stupid; it clearly recognized Valbanill as the source of the hostile undead. Hissing, it clattered through the thralls of the skeletons and swiped at the Breton. It missed once and tried again. The second time proved to be a solid it, nearly knocking the slender man halfway across the room.

Valbanill landed near Clare, and the Scorpion Daedra came skittering over to him, picking him up with no regard for whether any part of him had been broken or not.

"Need some healing spells here, buddy!"

"Working on it." Valbanill grimaced and moved to put his hands on Clare in order to start up a spell.

She grabbed him and jerked him back out of the way just as scorpion skeleton grabbed for him. She backed up, keeping her companion away from the snapping bone claws.

Clare unknowingly and luckily ended up backing right through a doorway. Valbanill crawled around Clare until he was riding on her backside, away from the claws of the skeleton. Under normal circumstances Clare would have protested Valbanill being so familiar with her, but now was not the time. She was just thankful that he did have the good sense to get out of the way. Clare kept backing up through winding hallway, fighting off the skeleton Daedra the whole way. Valbanill kept casting healing spells on her, keeping Clare fighting, keeping her alive.

After what felt like an eternity, the hall finally emptied out. Clare nearly fell over as she started backed down a set of stairs.

"A little warning would be nice," Clare hissed back at Valbanill.

"Watch that first step."

"You're riding me, you watch. I have six eyes, but none of them are in the back of my head!"

The stairs led them down to a large hall, what felt to be the heart of the Fort. If anything else it seemed to be the heart of the undeads' lair, as there was a lich milling about that was now attentive to the appearance of the intruders.

The lich raised its gnarled wood staff and fired, hitting both Clare and Valbanill with a powerful lightning strike. The Breton fell off the Scorpion Daedra with a thud.

Valbanill rolled up to see that the living and the undead Scorpion Daedras were still fighting with one another. And the lich and several skeletons were shambling his way.

"The fight of the Era! Scorpion versus scorpion. Necromancer versus necromancer." Valbanill took notice of the uneven odds, and summoned a few skeletons of his own. "And skeletons versus skeletons!"

The two opposing forces clashed in a maelstrom of weapons and bones. Clare and the skeleton Scorpion Daedra were evenly matched for the moment. But Valbanill found himself at a disadvantage in terms of the spellcasting fight. The lich's magical staff was proving to be a formidable weapon.

"This would be so much easier if I had a weapon!" Valbanill complained. He had lost his iron war-axe much earlier in the confusion of the fight.

"Switch!" Clare yelled as she bolted from her opponent.

"What, are you insane, woman?" Valbanill protested. Fighting a lich unarmed was one thing; Clare just gave him a death sentence for them to swap opponents. The Breton tried anyway. He launched an ice spike right at the skeleton Scorpion Daedra's skull and hit his mark. The icicle spear stuck right through the skeleton's mouth.

"Yeah, suck on that!"

The skeleton snapped its jaw shut and broke the ice spike.

"Oooo! Don't bite it off, you witch! Bad form. Bad form."

Clare opted for pure brute strength. She tackled the lich and pinned it down to the floor. The lich used its staff to block, but Clare simple grabbed it in her claws and snapped it in half. In response the lich's hand began to glow red, flames starting to lap from its bony fingers. Clare knew it was a touch-based flame attack.

"What is it with necromancers trying to put their hands all over me? I seem to be attracting a certain kind of man." Her claws pushed the burning hands away and went straight for the neck. A sharp pain jolted through her claws with the axe still in it as Clare decapitated the lich.

The Scorpion Daedra skeleton had been coated in a fine layer of frost from Valbanill's latest magical attack. It was moving much slower now.

"H-hey, Clare!" Valbanill hiccupped. "E-easy target! Come do what you do best!"

Clare charged at the scorpion skeleton with the last bit of remaining energy she had left. The skeleton broke apart as she tackled it. The charge ended with Clare slumping to the ground.

She lay there, listening to the sounds of battle as the Fort's remaining normal skeletons fought with Valbanill's summoned thralls. It didn't take long before the clanging of axes fell silent.

Valbanill walked over to the form of the exhausted Scorpion Daedra. "N-n-never-ever, errr…" he trialed off, unable to form the sentence he had started. He opted to abandon it and start a whole new one. "You break stuff really good."

"Words every girl dreams of hearing. Mind hitting me with a few more healing spells?"

Valbanill went about playfully tussling her short hair. She could feel the healing spell emanating from his hands.

"Wow, you sure get hurt a lot. Either that, or you're making up excuses for me to touch you." Valbanill went around to Clare's claw that still had part of the ebony battle-axe still embedded in it.

"That's why I keep you around."

"The healing or the touching?"

"Take a wild guess, Valbanill."

"Right, well, you're not gonna like it when I touch you this t-time."

"Implying I liked it before?"

"Compared to this, y-yeah. That axe has to come out. This is gonna—"

"Hurt, yes, I know. Stop talking and just get it over with."

"I'll hit you with a healing spell as soon as it's out." Valbanill got a grip and started to pull, but the axe refused to budge.

"Fuck," Clare grunted through clenched teeth.

Valbanill kept pulling. "Damn, scorpion girl, you can take a hit."

"As long as it's not an arrow in the throat." Clare winced as Valbanill pulled again.

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop," Clare groaned. "It hurts, okay?" She huffed several times and pulled her claw away from the Breton. "Gods damn it, you're weak."

"Well, I'm not the one with an axe stuck in me."

"Keep being a pain in my claw and you'll have one stuck in you in a moment."

"Blah, blah, blah."

The axe hurt so much Clare struggled to fight back tears.

"Alright, let's not be dumb about this." Valbanill summoned several skeletons. "I'll stick to m-my strengths."

"Getting your skeletons to do it for you?" Clare managed to chide the necromancer.

"Exactly."

Clare was a little surprised when most of the skeletons grabbed on to her, keeping her bolted in place. Three of the others put their bony hands on the axe, ready to pull it out of her claw.

"Okay, boys," Valbanill said. "Ready, Clare?"

"No."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.' 'Cause you'll never be ready for something like this. On three. One, two… uh, what comes after two?"

"Three," Clare said and suddenly she let out a sharp yelp as the skeletons pulled the axe-blade came out.

"See? That wasn't so bad. Now let Dr. Valbanill fix you up." The Breton went over and laid his hands on her injured claw. Clare felt a massive wave of healing power consumer her appendage. It was much stronger than the healing spells she had felt before. It almost hurt, as if Clare needed to be in any more pain. The sharp, nearly painful tingling sensation started to subside and Clare almost wished it hadn't, for now she was struck by the feeling of her claw mending and closing up. It was such an odd experience, and Clare didn't like it at all.

Finally, Valbanill stopped the healing spell. "See, good as new."

Clare tested her claw out, opening and closing it several times. It was sore beyond belief, but it was healed. She moved it closer and felt along it with her hand. There wasn't a crack or scar to be found. Valbanill had completely restored it.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," Clare managed to grin.

"I'm g-good for more than just healing spells, you know."

Clare tried to deliver a snarky response, only to find her muscles failing her. She started to lazily lean forward.

"Hey, whoa there." Valbanill awkwardly tried to catch her, not out of chivalry but simply because he was right there in her way.

The Scorpion Daedra weighed too much and she collapsed right on top of the necromancer.

"Uh… hey, Clare? You mind, I dunno, getting off me?"

The Breton only got the light sound of snoring as a reply.

* * *

Clare shifted, her body and mind finally beginning to wake. Clare felt like she had been coasting along as if she had been in a dream all her life. And the trials of the past few days had suddenly brought her to life.

Clare's eyes opened to the sight of Valbanill's.

"Morning, sleepy six-eyes. You mind not crushing me anymore?"

"Sorry." Clare got up off of him. "I was a bit tired."

"No shit. I cast several fatigue restoring spells on you and they did nothing."

"Sometimes a girl just needs her beauty sleep." Clare craned her neck from side to side, hearing a satisfying snap. "Looks like there's another reason to keep you around. You make a good pillow. Funny you went with restoration spells. I've of thought you would just summon some skeletons to pull me off you."

"Guess I didn't think of that."

"I don't believe that for a second. Skeletons are your answer for everything." Clare checked to make sure that she still had the Amulet of Kings with her. "Don't tell me you have some weird fetish where you like getting crushed by a pretty girl."

"I had no complaints about having your breasts pressing against me the whole time."

Clare couldn't help but let out a giggle. "These little things? Are you sure you that wasn't the Amulet of Kings you felt?"

"No, it was definitely your breasts. It was very noticeable."

Try as she might, Clare just couldn't suppress a smile. "You're easy to please."

"I am not. I have very high standards, I'll have you know."

"Oh, I'm sure all a woman would need to do is hold a bottle of booze and you'd roll over like a dog."

"Ouch, Clare."

"Hey, the truth hurts. And so do ebony battle-axes."

"Yeah, speaking about that…" Valbanill went over and picked up what remained of the ebony weapon and tossed it back to the ground. And then went over and examined what was left of the lich's broken staff. "If you could stop breaking every descent weapon we come across, I might just find something worth using in a fight."

"So sorry, I was too busy saving our skins to worry about our enemies weapons."

"You worry about them alright, worry if there's enough time to break them before I can claim them." Valbanill started searching around the large hall.

"Either way, it shouldn't matter. I don't expect to be fighting grandiose battles every step of the way to Chorrol."

"That wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. We'd be able to loot any corpses we make along the way. We are low on supplies."

Clare noticed that Valbanill didn't have that slur in his speech that he usually had. Was he, sober? She wondered how long she was passed out on top of him.

"Speaking of supplies…" Valbanill found a locked chest and cast one of his Alteration spells on it. He opened it up and peered inside. "Awww, no booze."

As Valbanill sauntered off, Clare moved towards the chest. "What is in there?"

"Not booze," the alcoholic necromancer said.

"Are you actually sober right now?"

"Dangerously close, I think. You wouldn't like me when I'm sober."

"Implying I like you at all?" Clare jabbed.

"You do keep me around, and let me touch you. Must be something there."

Clare looked inside the chest and pulled its contents out.

"Yeah, a map. And a compass."

Valbanill's searching revealed three unlocked chests scattered about the hall. The first two contained tiny bits of gold, but the third elicited a cheer from the necromancer.

"What is it? Wait, lemme guess. It's something you can drink, right?" Clare skittered over to Valbanill.

"Not just any kind of drink." Valbanill turned to the Scorpion Daedra and presented his find. "Shadowbanish Wine."

"I've heard of that. That's the wine that makes you see in the dark, right?"

"And it tastes incredible! There were barely any of these made. I can't believe we found two whole bottles! This whole miserable adventure is worth it just for this!"

"And saving all of Tamriel is just a little bonus I guess."

Valbanill suddenly took notice of the map and compass Clare was holding. She noticed that his eyes had suddenly become very focused.

"What?" Clare asked, confused. "Don't tell me you wanna trade items."

"Actually, lemme see that…" Clare thought it was the end of the world. Valbanill had just given her the two bottles of Shadowbanish Wine to hold while he took the map and compass.

After a few moments of studying the old parchment, his eyes lit up.

"What is it?" Clare asked. The curiosity was killing her. What on that map had gotten his attention that he abandoned the wine? It had looked just like a plain old map of Cyrodiil to her.

"This is more rare than the wine. This is a magical map and compass."

Clare tilted her head. "What kind of magic would a map have?" She moved in and peered at it.

Valbanill muttered a few things to himself. Then the paper lit up in a pale light for a moment. "There," Valbanill said. "I think I started it back up."

"Started what back up?" Clare asked.

"The map. The compass should work just fine."

"How can you tell?"

"Lemme test it."

"How?"

"Let's leave the Fort." He pointed to a part of the map. "See here? This is around where we should be right now, east of the Imperial City. Remember what this looks like."

"Okay…"

They left through the winding halls through which they first came, encountering no further skeletons or other hostiles.

Pushing past the large wooden doors, Clare walked out into the sunlight. She realized they must have spent the entire night in the Fort. She looked around, sniffed at the air. The Minotaurs seemed to have left, though she couldn't be for certain until they actually left the Fort entirely. She hoped they had gone. It would be annoying that after all their fighting in the Fort, that they might end up still having to fight their way through the Minotaurs.

"Look at this," Valbanill beckoned to her.

"Hmm?" Clare looked at the part of the map he was pointing at. There looked to be a tiny little icon of a Fort where before there had been nothing.

"Touch it."

"Usually you like to do the touching." She touched the little representation of the Fort anyway and a name popped up above it. Fort Chalman. She removed her finger, and the text faded away. She put her finger back and it returned.

"Amazing," Clare said with genuine wonderment. "Could this thing map out all of Cyrodiil?"

"It should be able to. Any place we travel to with this map should get marked."

"Wait, then why's it so blank? It just has Fort Chalman, where we are, and the major cities. Shouldn't it have all the places the previous owner went to?"

"Someone must have reset it with a special spell. Didn't want others knowing where they had been. Doubt it matters now though. The map's ours now and whoever used to have it is long gone. We should celebrate our good fortune with a drink." Valbanill reached for the bottles Clare was holding.

She pulled them back out of his reach. "Don't drink and work. You might spill your work. I don't want you spilling and staining our nice, new magical map."

"Me? Waste a drop of Shadowbanish Wine? I'm insulted. And that thing is not new; it's ancient. It's tougher than it looks."

"Still, I think we should save the magical wine in case we need it later."

Valbanill scoffed. "I can cast Night-Eye on myself whenever I need to."

"But I can't. Besides, it'll taste even better if we save it for a special occasion."

"Who knows when that will happen? Why do women have to try and make everything 'special?' And what's this 'we' stuff? I'm gonna drink it all. I found it, it's mine."

Clare put on the best pouty face she could. "Aw, you're not gonna share it with a pretty girl? You really are a jerk, Valbanill."

The necromancer sighed. "Fine. I'll share. How could I say no to that face? With six-eyes, and fangs. The face of a woman who could rip me in two."

"There you go. You're not as dumb as you look."

"You've got a mean streak to you, Sadlygrove."

"Just with you, Valbanill."

"I need a drink."

"Not the special stuff."

"I know, I know." Valbanill went about looking for anything of value lying around the Fort. He went up the stairs to the upper levels, and Clare followed.

"I didn't show you everything the map can do," Valbanill changed the subject as they looked around. "The compass is magical too. They work as a set."

"Show me."

"Okay, look here." Valbanill moved his finger over to Chorrol. "Our quest is to return the Amulet of Kings to Jauffre in Chorrol, right?"

"In Weynon Priory, right."

"Let me concentrate." Suddenly a slender red triangle appeared on the map, on the eastern side of Chorrol.

"What is that?"

"A waypoint," Valbanill explained. "With this map, if you focus closely enough, feel the objective you wish to complete, this map will guide you to where you need to go."

"Wow, this map… almost makes things too easy."

"It gets easier," Valbanill said. "Look at the compass."

Clare noticed that there was now an identical red triangle on the compass. "The compass points to the corresponding location on the map. This will take us right to Jauffre. No doubt about it. Even a drunken idiot could do it."

Clare laughed. Things had gotten a whole lot easier now. And she couldn't help but wonder about the sheer power behind the map and the compass. Who had made such items, how many did they make? Such things Clare could only guess at.

"And it doesn't just work for a quest you want to complete," Valbanill continued. "You can set a separate waypoint. Say I want to go to Cheydinhal." He pointed to the city in the east. Suddenly a dark blue triangle appeared in the center of the city.

"How'd you get that one?" Clare asked.

"Just concentrate. Set your mind to it. Tell yourself and the map where you want to go. That waypoint in Cheydinhal is there because that is where I told myself where I want to go."

Clare looked over and studied the compass, the red and the blue waypoints pointing off in different directions.

"Wanna try it?" Valbanill offered.

"Okay."

"Where do you wanna go?"

"Kvatch." Clare focused and pointed at the map. The location of the blue triangle changed from Cheydinhal to Kvatch. "What an amazing set of magical items. I could get around just fine…" Clare trailed off for a moment. She realized with these items, she really didn't need Valbanill to show her the way to Chorrol anymore. But she did like having him around. And she was lonely enough as it was.

"I guess you could," the necromancer admitted.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to send you on your way. I still need someone to carry everything and cast healing spells on me. And speaking of carrying stuff…" Clare handed over the bottles of Shadowbanish Wine to Valbanill. "You can hold that stuff."

They came searching around the upper levels of Fort Chalman for a while and were rewarded with a few old bottles of Ale, which Valbanill and Clare both greedily gulped down. They also managed to find an old wooden chest filled with repair hammers.

"You look ridiculous trying to hold all those hammers," Clare observed Valbanill as he tried to take them all from the chest.

"T-these things are useful," Valbanill said. After the ales, his slight speech quirks were back.

"We don't even have any descent armor or weapons worth fixing. And I think that old ebony battle-axe is too forgone for a few repair hammers to fix it up."

"I'm not leaving them."

"This Fort has given us a lot already. And you won't leave the pile of hammers?"

"Nope."

Clare sighed in mock aggravation. "Here, let me do it." She simply picked up the entire chest and carried it in her claw. "You know, this is supposed to be your job."

Satisfied that they had gotten everything they could get out of Fort Chalman, they set off. There were no Minotaurs to be found as they left the security of the Fort and made their way back to the Red Ring Road.

Something had been gnawing at Clare. Something about Valbanill's Alteration spells. He had been opening up locked chests with ease. Something he had told her before didn't sit well with her.

"Back in the Imperial Prison, you said you used a lockpick to escape. I get the feeling you don't have the dexterity or hand-eye coordination for that. Even under pressure. And why would you even need to, what with your Alteration spells?"

"You caught me, I lied."

"You do that a lot."

"A-and apparently I'm not very good at i-it. I need to p-practice more."

"Why lie?" Clare asked. She was really curious. He didn't seem to gain anything by lying about something like that. But there was the possibility that Valbanill was simply a compulsive liar. That, or he was too drunk to know what reality was half the time.

"It's n-not wise to show your hand to strangers. They'll rig the card game against you-u."

"You could have broken out of your cell at any time. Why did you wait?"

"I couldn't fight my way through the Imperial Guard. I didn't know there was a secret passageway in the cell next to mine."

"Why did you beg me to let you out? You knew you could free yourself. You could have easily just followed me instead of pleading to me for help. You like destroying any semblance of dignity you might have?"

"Dignity is for royals and pompous asshats that never had to struggle to earn a living. I wanted to see what kind of person you were. When I freed myself I knew I would be following you through the passage. Maybe you'd be an obstacle to my freedom and maybe you wouldn't. You surprised me. I figured someone sentenced to the Imperial Prison would be scum."

"I was framed," Clare said.

"What was the charge?" Valbanill asked.

"Necrophilia… among other things…"

"Sorry I asked."

"I didn't do it."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"Okay." Valbanill laughed. "The necromancer and the necrophile. Want me to summon some zombies for you to make love to?"

"I'm not into that!" Clare snapped.

Valbanill continued to snigger. "Do you sleep around with the zombies a lot? Do you cheat on your undead lovers? I bet I know what they say to you when they catch you being unfaithful."

Clare growled, not really wanting to hear whatever snide joke he had concocted.

"You're dead to me!"

Clare tried to swat at the necromancer, but he danced away just in time. She had the magical map and compass, perhaps she really didn't need him or his healing spells along the way anymore. She just hoped he had no more zombie jokes.


	4. The Gravefinder's Repose

**Chapter 4: The Gravefinder's Repose**

The sky was started to turn red as the sun had begun its slow descend towards the horizon. Traveling along the Red Ring Road, the Scorpion Daedra and the Breton reached an old wooden fence running along the side of the path. A sign hanging from a rotting timber post identified the ramshackle dwelling up ahead as the Roxey Inn.

"C-c-civilization. An inn. Finally. I was just about to dave—cave in and open the Shadowbanish Wine." The necromancer started to fumble as he tried to trot over towards the inn.

"We wouldn't be running so low if you'd pace yourself a bit." Clare kept her stride. She'd get there when she got there, and if she happened to watch Valbanill fall on his ass, all the more entertaining for her.

"W-what are you talkin' about, Sadlygrove?" Valbanill turned back around, looking at the Scorpion Daedra as he began to walk backwards. "I _am_ pacing myself."

"That makes me wonder what you're like when you overdo it." Clare smiled. "You must be a hoot at parties."

"You have no idea."

"I've got a few."

Clare was glad they made it to an inn. They were running low on the surplus of cheese and lettuce they had plundered from Vilverin and she was getting very hungry.

"Must be a popular place." Clare noticed that there were several people milling about, far too many for what the small building could reasonably house over the course of one night. She wondered if they would even be able to rent a room at all.

"Uh, you better give me the Amulet of Kings."

"Huh? What for?" Clare stopped and looked at her companion.

"It's pretty noticeable on you, c-considering you wear it like a fuckin' trophy. The Emperor is dead, and news is-s sure to have travailed, traveled faster than us. What w-with horses an' all. W-we-e walk in on a group of people and they see a Daedra wearing the Amulet of Kings and we're gonna have a bad time 'explainin' it. U-u-unless—" Valbanill burped. "You wanna p-plan on killing anyone who gives us troubles. We have beeeeeenn killing a lot of stuff since we got dis amulet. So I guess that is an option."

"I see your point." Clare removed the amulet from the belts that laced across her chest and handed it over to the necromancer. "That's a scary level of common sense coming from someone so sauced."

"T-that's a scary lack of sense from someone so sober." Valbanill put away the amulet, keeping it completely hidden from sight.

"Huh, guess you got me."

"But can I keep you? The pretty ones always get away."

"Keep sweet talking me and you'll do just fine."

"A-and by 'just fine,' you mean I'll get d-ditched at some point."

"You've got nothing to worry about, Valbanill. I wouldn't ditch you. I could always use a pack mule and a map-reader. Nobody reads that map the way you do."

"Now who's the sweet-talker?"

Once they reached the front lawn Clare dropped the wooden chest of repair hammers.

"I'm tired of carrying these things around. We're selling them here." Clare skittered over and opened up an unassuming wooden barrel. She found a neatly folded cloth and a lockpick, both of which she liberated from their wooden prison. She felt no guilt taking the items, she had long ago learned that the people of Mundus seemed not to mind if an individual plundered from the occasional barrel, so long as it had not been locked shut.

"Did you go daft in the head, scorpion girl? We can't sell repair hammers at an inn like this. They won't fetch a good price, if we-e can even fell-sell them at all."

"Fine, you lug them all the way to the next town."

"We haven't even come across the first town yet."

"My point exactly," Clare nodded as she looked over at a bay horse that was tied up near the inn. "It's been nothing but ruins and old forts up until this point. This has not been a quick journey and I'm not hefting these damn things any further. Being the pack mule is supposed to be your job. You promised."

"There's too many for m-ee to carry."

A realization suddenly hit Clare like a Daedric warhammer. " _You_ to carry? You could have summoned your skeletons to carry this crap for us!"

"Oops. D-didn't' think of that."

Clare groaned. "How could you not? You use those things to do everything."

"You didn't think of it either."

Clare grumbled to herself, clacking her claws in irritation as she made her way towards the inn's door. She left the chest of repair hammers behind; Valbanill could deal with them the rest of the way.

Jakrelkill summoned a pair of skeletons. "Stay here and guard this chest of repair hammers," he instructed his undead henchmen. "I don't want anyone stealing this s-stuff."

Just as Valbanill was about to follow Clare, he paused. He swore he saw someone in the crowd of people milling around the inn that he recognized. The alcoholic necromancer blinked several times, but lost track of an Argonian he thought looked familiar. He shrugged and followed after his traveling partner.

Clare opened the door but could barely fit her large form through the entryway.

All at once the Scorpion Daedra suddenly felt countless eyes fall upon her. On her left, the Nord innkeeper just gawked at her. People of every stripe and color filled the common room of the inn. Dunmer, Altmer, Bosmer, Imperials, Khajiit… a Breton woman that was slowly walking towards them.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all of Tamriel…"

"W-where else would we possibly run into each other?" Jakrelkill asked as he stepped up along Clare's side. "A temple? They don't serve nearly enough booze at the Alter of the Nine. You look g-great, by the way."

The Breton moved toward the necromancer until she was close enough for Jakrelkill to smell her perfume and with her finger, she moved a stray hair out of his eyes. "And you look only slightly less dead than last time we met. You remember that, don'cha, Jak?"

"N-nno-o. Not really. You might have to refresh my memory." The necromancer wiggled his eyebrows in a sad attempt at flirtation. "Though I've heard you've moved on, baby. Hooker to Nerevarine. Quite a jump. Someone certainly put in the extra time g-grinding away l-levels and sleeping it off. Congratulations."

"And you've moved on… actually, it doesn't look like you have," she said, casting a sideways glance at Clare. "Still have a thing for beasties, I see."

"Well, they _are_ the only ones that are ever able to keep up with me. Jealous?"

"Decidedly. Though, I have to say I have moved on from guys with sad dog eyes. I'll have you know that I am now the proud wife of the Ashkhan of the Ahemmusa."

The necromancer had to stifle a chiding laugh. "So you have developed an affinity for mud, dust, guar shit and romantic commitment. Fantastic. So, w-what brings you here?"

Clare's rearmost right leg tapped at the wooden floor in irritation. She had to actively resist grinding her fangs against her lower lip. Her armored tail possessively curled around her companion. She didn't like how well these two were getting along and she didn't like being ignored the way she was, especially since she was accustomed to commanding all the attention from strangers.

"Who are you?" Clare asked.

"Annika Blue," the Breton woman answered. "I'm here out of respect. My darling daddy had an unfortunate meeting with the Mythic Dawn."

"So you finally figured out who your daddy was."

"And mommy was a serving girl who serviced him all too well."

"Makes sense. So, how did you know how to find us?"

Annika's smile dropped. "Look, I… I was helping a friend… and I happened to be in Cyrodiil when I heard the news." She took a deep breath. "You were clumsy and easy to track. Plus your friend draws much attention… and I still have some connections."

"Some powerful ones."

"Indeed. So I think you should hand the necklace over. Forget about Jauffre."

Clare's six eyes narrowed. "How do you know what we carry? How did you know about Jauffre? We never mentioned his name or our purpose." Clare realized Annika Blue had some very real and reliable connections. The woman standing before her suddenly felt a lot more dangerous. Clare recognized that information must have traveled must faster than she realized since parting ways with the Blade, Baurus back in the secret escape route in the Imperial Prison. And she understood it must have been Baurus that set off the grapevine of news that eventually led Annika to them. Clare realized that she and Valbanill should have traveled faster; they had spent too much time poking around old forts and ruins. It felt like real danger had caught up to them.

"I told you I had connections," Annika said. "Look, we can make this easy. And I'll pay you handsomely for your troubles."

"I love making things easy," Jakrelkill exclaimed with a hiccup. "Especially if you're going to pay handsomely for my troubles. I'm a lover n-n-not a fighter. And of course, we'll have to agree to a method of payment. This'll be fun—"

"I don't believe it's yours," Clare cut in, her voice as sharp as her claws. "The Emperor himself entrusted me to take this amulet to Jauffre. Why should I abandon my quest now after coming so far?"

"Because it's the easy way." Jakrelkill turned to the Scorpion Daedra as if she had lost all common sense.

"I'm not giving it up so easily."

"D-don't be dumb, Clare. There's no need to start a fight with t-eh the fucking Nerevarine of all people."

"I'm not scared of any Nereva-whatever." The Scorpion Daedra clacked her claws loudly and proudly, drawing some attention from the other patrons milling about the common room of the inn.

"You don't even know who the Nerevarine is, do you?" Jakrelkill asked.

"Shut up, 'Jak.'" Clare mimicked Annika's nickname for Jakrelkill. "I don't need to."

"Why is it never easy?" The necromancer put a hand up to his forehead as if he were suddenly suffering a brain aneurism. Though he quickly turned his attention back to Clare, who looked like she was about to snip at Annika any second.

Annika reached for Jakrelkill's hand. "Jak, you're outnumbered; even if you and your… _striking_ companion somehow manage to work your way out of this tavern, there are another fifty men outside—including several necromancers—and our old friend, Hides-His-Blades. Jak, I have no desire to hurt you, so let's make this easy; just give me the amulet, it is rightfully mine. And I'll pay you handsomely for your troubles."

"Oh, I'm _striking_ alright." The Scorpion Daedra's clawed arms swept wide in an open display of aggression. "I'm about to strike _you_. I'm not going to just stand around and be threatened by some cheap whore," Clare hissed.

"Cheap whore? Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're the one wearing a bunch of old belts as a brassier. Of course, that sexy little outfit is entirely wasted on you. It's not like you're drawing all the boys to your yard with your shake." Annika drew her blade with a single, fluid stroke. All the patrons at the Roxey Inn followed suit. Clare didn't care; she wanted nothing more than to part Annika's pretty head from her tiny neck.

"Ladies, ladies. Please. There are other ways to settle this. We're all friends here. No need for excessive violence, unless it's in the bedroom. And speaking of… I say we find ourselves a room for the night and have a n-nice, wholesome threeway—"

Clare punched the necromancer in the arm.

"Look, Jak, I can prove it. If you'll just allow me the amulet for but a moment." Annika sheathed her weapon and held out her hand, ignoring Jakrelkill's antics and Clare's hostility.

Clare let out a prolonged, frustrated sigh of submission. "Fine."

Jakrelkill produced the amulet he had been hiding and handed it over. Annika slipped the necklace on and to Clare's surprise it didn't fall off.

Annika's eyes strained as if she were subject to some unknown horror. Her face turned several shades paler. She wobbled over to the nearest stool and sat down.

Valbanill followed after her. "What's wrong? The Nerevarine can't handle the weight of the world? Don't tell me you've only been regulated to helping out Morrowind."

Annika's eyes met Jakrelkill's, her gaze deadly serious. "We need to speak. _Please_."

Clare simply huffed. So, Annika Blue could wear the Amulet of Kings. A secret heir to the Emperor had come to them. It looked like her quest really was finished; they wouldn't have to find Jauffre after all. The whole point was to find an heir. _That was easy,_ she thought to herself.

Ignoring the two Bretons, the Scorpion Daedra made her way over to the Nord standing at the front desk.

"Thank goodness someone that can help is here!" the Nord exclaimed with gusto.

"What are you talking about, woman?" Clare demanded.

"I don't know how to make this request any simpler, but to put it bluntly, Raelynn the Gravefinder must die."

"Uhhh… what now?" Clare asked. "Am I missing something? When do innkeepers start calling out assassinations on people to whoever walks through the door?"

"A few months ago, that witch of a necromancer decided to inhabit Moss Rock Cavern just north of my inn. I don't know what she does in there; frankly, I don't want to know. However, I do know that after she arrived, the woods at night became unsafe. I've seen undead of all types walking in the dark woods near the cave entrance. Now, this area's getting a bad reputation and my business has waned. Every day, it seems the number of undead increase. If someone can get in the cave and kill Raelynn, maybe we can stem the tide. Her death pays a handsome bounty. I hope you'll take advantage of this opportunity."

"Actually, I was wondering about getting a bed for the night," Clare said. "But, I can check into your little necromancer problem tomorrow." With her quest from the Emperor now complete, it wasn't as if Clare had much else to do beyond going home.

"There's a bed, of a sort. It ain't much, but it gets the job done. Ten gold a night if you're interested."

"I'll take it."

"It's upstairs, second door on the left. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Oops. Forgot the gold. My friend has it. I'll be right back."

* * *

"So, what do you want?" Jakrelkill asked.

Annika looked up at him with tears staining her eyes.

The necromancer felt uncomfortable. "It's not like you to cry."

"This isn't easy for me; I want the throne. I'm tired of running. But what I saw…"

"What?"

"Jak, the wearer of the amulet will die. And gods help the bearer."

"I-I can't a-abandon… abandon…Cl—this quest."

"Oh for fucks sake, Jak, why not? Just give that thing the amulet. Let her seek the bearer alone."

"No," Jakrelkill didn't stutter in the slightest.

"Jak, I can find you work and coin… and a lovely Dunmer with fire in her eyes. Look, you helped me and I'm just looking to return the favor. Come on, don't do this."

"I'm seeing this through. I'm not leaving C-Clare to do it all by herself."

Annika sighed. "Since you can't see reason, then I guess I'll have to give you this." She reached over and gently planted a soft kiss on Jak's lips. "For luck."

"Oh, Annika," weary, somber defeat crept into Jakrelkill's voice. "You know I don't have any points in that stat. You'd have to do a lot more than that if you wanted to boost my luck."

Clare had nearly split her lip wide open with her fangs when she saw Annika kiss Jakrelkill.

"You two having fun?" the Scorpion Daedra rambled over. Her muscles had tensed, and her eight legs clattered with more noise than usual.

"I a-always do," Jakrelkill said. "Or at least I t-try to. Sometimes it doesn't always w-w-work out."

"I need ten gold for a bed," Clare said in an emotionless drone.

Jakrelkill produced the requested septims and the Scorpion Daedra quickly turned back and scuttled off towards the innkeeper.

"W-w-what's her problem? Where'd all her feistiness go?" Jakrelkill looked over to Annika.

"I know you're a stinking drunk, but you're not stupid, Jak. Or at least I like to pretend that you're not stupid."

"Oh, c'mon. S-s-she doesn't get to be jealous. She has no claim on me."

"Yes she does. You're already following her around like a lost dog." Annika handed the Amulet of Kings back to Jakrelkill. "And the two of you are heading into danger with this."

"Bah." Jakrelkill pocketed the amulet once again. "When am I not in danger?"

"You will be in more danger than usual if you don't go talk to her. If you want to keep following her, anyway."

The necromancer sighed. "I know." He started to trail after his Daedric companion, but then quickly turned back to Annika for a moment. "At least _think_ about that threesome, okay?"

Annika shook her head and giggled. "Always thinking with your cock."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't own any poultry. And even if I did, I would not be taking advice from some miserable land-birds that can't even fly right."

Jakrelkill whistled sharply, loud enough to be heard outside. His two skeletons entered the inn with the chest of repair hammers in tow. They wandered over to Annika and opened the chest, presenting the repair hammers to the petite Breton.

"I-I offer this as a gift. This wa-ay you can always think f-fondly of me hammering away at you."

"I have more than enough memories of that. Keep your hammers, Jak. I think you might to well to sell them for the coin. Just try not to drink all the gold away in one night."

* * *

Clare opened the door to the sad little room that was to be her residence for the night. A small bed was shoved to the side of the room, along with a broken down set of dresser drawers. Little dust motes hung in the air. The room smelled of mold and despair.

The seized the old wooden bedframe with her claws and shifted the bed to the center of the room. It was already too small for her but there was absolutely no way she could ever lay on it while it was shoved against the wall.

"Hey there, scorpion girl." Clare heard Jakrelkill behind her.

"What is it, Valbanill?" Clare didn't even turn around to address him.

"Awww, don't be ore-sore, Sadlygrove." Jakrelkill shut the door.

"Not sore. Just tired."

The wispy Breton had to squeeze around the Scorpion Daedra to the opposite side of the room and climbed on top of the bed in order to get her to look at him. He presented her with some food that he bought from the innkeeper.

"I thought you'd be back there with your old buddy," Clare sniveled as she ate the offering.

"Annika? Nah. She's not a big, strong, sexy Scorpion Daedra like you."

"Trying to get me into bed that badly, huh? She turn you down?"

"I'm being serious. See?" Valbanill presented Clare with the Amulet of Kings.

"Uh… wasn't she ready to fight us for this?"

"She gave it back. D-d-doesn't want it. I-I'm used to rejection but this was a rather fa-st o-one."

"So, Annika just gets to change her mind and saddle us with this again? She wanted it. _She_ can take it to Chorrol now."

"S-she doesn't want it, Clare. We're stuck with it again. W-well, not really. We could always lose it in the lake and go find a new adventure. B-but then some goblin might get a-ahold of it." Valbanill put the amulet away.

"Whatever. I'm still going that general direction anyway." Clare pushed Valbanill on the bed and pinned him down. She settled in on top of him and the bed, her eight arachnid legs, tail and two scorpion claws hanging uncomfortably off the sides.

"H-hey! G-get off!"

"Nope. You're my pillow for the night."

"I was your pillow last time."

"And you did a marvelous job."

"That wasn't in the job description."

"It's been amended. In addition to being my pack mule, you are now also my pillow."

"Release me or fuck me, Sadlygrove. But do not waste my time with this annoying teasing."

"No. You're not having me this night. And I'm not going to give you the chance to go and defile the sanctity of that woman's marriage."

"Awww, that's n-no fun."

Clare settled in, wrapping her arms around the necromancer tightly. There was no way Valbanill was going anywhere unless she allowed it. He seemed to acknowledge this and quickly gave up his pathetic struggling. She rested her head on his chest. It was no lie; he was comfortable. Not the warmest thing in the world, but she did enjoy the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The rhythm quickly enticed the Scorpion Daedra to sleep.

* * *

Clare woke to the smell of slightly rancid bacon. She started to stretch out while still on the old bed. The Scorpion Daedra felt as if she had suddenly realized that she was catching on to the secret of success. It was all just a matter of concentration.

"Finally gonna get off me, scorpion girl?" The necromancer feigned to struggle against the Scorpion Daedra's weight.

"Don't you ever sleep?"

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

Exhausted and still irritated, Clare rose and carefully navigated the stairs down to the tavern. The inn was still full of Annika's retainers, but Clare's rival was nowhere in sight. After eating the greasy slop the innkeeper dared to call a breakfast, Clare decided to step outside, and there she saw Annika Blue, saddling up her horse.

For a time, Clare watched from a distance until finally deciding to approach. Annika Blue looked up; gone was the bravado and condescending smile from last night, in its place was a sad resignation.

"Leaving without saying goodbye?"

"Good morning, Clare," Annika answered without rancor or sarcasm. "I said all my goodbyes last night."

Clare nodded, though was uncertain of what else to say, so she turned and skittered back to the inn.

"Clare, Jak was special to me in a time that wasn't so special," Annika called out. "I have a deep regard and affinity for him, and still, to this day, I admire him. He has quite the ability, but I am not sure that will be enough to keep him alive."

Clare walked back to the petite girl with blue hair. Annika represented everything Clare ever resented and longed to be, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to hate Annika this morning.

"You sound worried." Clare subconsciously tilted her head slightly to the side.

"Did Jak tell you what I saw when I put on that amulet?"

"No, he didn't mention it."

Annika grinned. "I suppose you both were busy. Make up sex is pretty hot."

"Ew. No. We just went to sleep, or rather _I_ slept. You presume too much."

"I've known Jak long enough to presume quite a bit, but what the both of you do in tiny, dark rooms is not my concern. But I am concerned for the safety of an old friend. Well, the long and short of it is that the next bastard who places that cursed thing round their neck will certainly perish. The bearer, you, may perish as well. You're in for a brutal mission."

"I can handle brutal," Clare said. "And I really doubt this piece of jewelry will be the death of me."

Annika sighed deeply, then reached into the sack mounted on her saddle. After some digging she pulled out a small bag of coins and what looked like a shirt made of black leather, red silk and golden cloth. Annika handed both the gold and the shirt to Clare. "This was a gift from King Helseth; I think the colors would go well with your hair and skin and it is certainly more functional than those belts."

"Thank you." Clare was surprised at the gesture of generosity.

"Keep Jak out of the coins or he'll drink you broke."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Clare watched as she mounted the horse and started off, her army of retainers leaving the inn and following behind.

"Gotta get me an army of servants," Clare said with a tint of envy in her voice.

"D-d-don't you already have your own army?" a voice asked from behind Clare.

She turned to look at Jakrelkill Valbanill.

"Or do I need t-to summon some up for you?"

"I'm fine. Here, hold these for me." Clare handed off Annika's gifts for Valbanill to hold.

"You make up with Annika?"

"I guess you can call it that? She gave me that stuff. The shirt is nice, which is why I'm not wearing it. I don't want it instantly getting shredded." Clare started to skitter, heading past the inn and into the forest.

"Your army is much better than hers, trust me," Valbanill referred to the skeletons he could summon, picking up the previous topic of the conversation.

"Oh, I do. Could you be a dear and open that map for me?"

"Where we goin'?" Valbanill asked.

"Moss Rock Cavern. We're going on a little mission to find Raelynn the Gravefinder."

Just past the inn, the terrain became very steep as the pair entered the forest.

"Never h-heard of 'er," Valbanill said. "What are we doin' when we fin' her?"

"That Nord innkeeper, Malene, wants me to kill her."

"What she'd do?" Valbanill asked. "Steal away her lover or somethin'?"

"She's been summoning the undead. And her creations have been roaming the forest and making it unsafe."

"So, we're goin' after a necromancer."

"Yes."

"To k-kill-ill her."

"No."

"H-huh?"

"I'd like to talk with Raelynn if we can," Clare said. "See what she's up to. Why she's doing this."

"That's a-a surprise," Valbanill admitted.

"Why should it be? I learned it from you. Back when you talked with that necromancer in Vilverin."

"Not all necromancers know each other. And not all are friendly with e-each other neither. As for her lying around in a cavern… maybe she's got nowhere el-se to go. Maybe she's a lonely, sexy little thing…"

"What did you do with the repair hammers?" Clare cut into her companion's overtly feisty thoughts.

"Sold them last night. Didn't make much. J-just as I feared. How do you t'ink I got that food for you last night?"

"Better than carrying them around everywhere," Clare said.

They stopped as they found a sad looking wooden door placed over a hole in the rock face before them.

"This must be the place."

"Yes it is." Valbanill checked the map. "Moss Rock Cavern."

Other than the wooden door covering the hole, there was no indication that anyone, living or dead, would call the place home. Clare noted that there was indeed moss covering the rocks, it was an aptly named dwelling. It's not as if it could be named for anything else. Moss Rock Cavern sounded a lot better than Generic Cave #29. She slowly pushed the wooden door inside. To her surprise, it didn't creak.

As soon as she skittered into Moss Rock Cavern, the Scorpion Daedra was greeted by a dead rat corpse in her path.

"Lovely," Clare said with sarcasm.

"T-there are many ways to describe a rat corpse. But 'lovely' is not one of them. U-unless you really a-are into fucking the dead," Valbanill said.

The tunnel wound down and was blocked by another shabby wooden door. Clare pushed through it into a large cavern dominated by massive tree roots hanging from above like some natural chandelier.

A single shadow milled about the room. The spectral shape took note of the newcomers and hastily turned to greet them. Clare could make out that it was a male Breton. He wore long black robes and had an iron mace fixed to his belt.

"Hello there," Clare said.

The necromancer rose up his left hand and summoned a ghost while grabbing his iron mace with his right.

"Whoa! Whoa! Hey! We're not here to fight!" Clare raised her hands to shoulder height in an effort to demonstrate she wasn't trying to be aggressive. She hadn't even gotten the chance to introduce herself and already this asshat was trying to start a fight.

"You shouldn't have come here!"

"Hey, asshole! We didn't come to fight!"

"DIE!"

A bolt of lightning hit Clare. She stumbled backward, ripples of the electric attack undulating over her entire body. Emboldened by his successful attack, the necromancer charged at the Scorpion Daedra, wildly swinging his mace.

"JAK! Do something!" Clare demanded.

"I am." Valbanill had summoned a pair of skeletons to distract the ghost. The iron war-axes of the skeletons could not harm the ghost and the ghost's magical frost attacks did next to nothing to Valbanill's skeletons. But it all was just a distraction, for Valbanill was able to easily walk around the ghost and was able to give it a simple pat on the back. The simple touch produced wild sparks the consumed and dissipated the ghost in seconds.

"Hey, buddy," Valbanill called out to the other necromancer, who turned around to face him. "Its four on one now. A real gangbang. You've lost. G-give it up."

The necromancer quickly summoned another ghost. The necromancer heard the Scorpion Daedra coming up from behind and swung around just in time to try and dodge her stinger. But the Breton was too slow and Clare's stinger-tipped tail struck right at his head.

Clare groaned as she shook her tail, trying to free it from the Breton's head. The necromancer's ghost dissipated without being attacked, as often happened when its summoner was killed or otherwise mentally incapacitated. In this instance the summoner was mentally incapacitated. The Breton moaned and groaned and tried to form words but failed. He was no longer capable of speech now that a large stinger was embedded in his brain.

"That's macabre, even for you," Valbanill said.

"The idiot moved. I wasn't aiming for his head. Help me out here."

Valbanill's two summoned skeletons moved to pull the necromancer off the end of Clare's tail. Once freed the Breton gurgled a few times before dying on the floor.

"I was just going to stun him," Clare protested. "Try to get him to calm down so we could talk."

"So much for that p-plan," Valbanill said.

"Why does it work for you but not for me?" Clare whined.

"I h-have a way with people. You ne-ed to put more points into personality after you sleep."

"This guy was nuts," Clare looked down at the body. "Who goes attacking a Scorpion Daedra all by themselves?"

Valbanill's skeletons started to loot the corpse, which was incredibly intact due to the fact that only the Breton's head suffered any damage.

"An idiot?" Valbanill offered. "Or something-someone powerful."

"This guy wasn't that strong. That spell hurt, but it hardly did real damage."

"W-well, here's-ears why." Valbanill took a Spark scroll offered to him by one of his skeletons. "This is a low-tier scroll. This guy was a-a chump. If he's using scrolls this weak, he can't c-c-ast anyting stronger. I'm guessing that Summon Ghost spell was the best he had. He was desperate."

"He was insane. We weren't even looking to fight. He started that all on his own." Clare looked around to find a chest in the middle of the room. She tried to open it but found it locked. "I need this thing opened."

Valbanill moved to oblige. A quick Alteration spell revealed a weak potion of Frost Shield, lessor soul gem and seventeen gold. The contents were hardly a treasure trove and were a testament to just how impoverished the Breton necromancer was.

The two skeletons offered Valbanill the deceased Breton's stuff: the necromancer's robes, iron mace, rough leather boots, a dark shirt, and black wide pants. Valbanill cast a spell on himself.

"What was that?" Clare asked.

"Night-Eye spell so I-I can see b-better. I don't ha-ve the sharp eyes of a Scorpion Daedra, after all. P-plus I only get two eyes, you dirty cheater."

"Right." Clare looked around the cavern as Valbanill changed into the dead necromancer's clothes.

"Ho-how do I look?" Valbanill asked after he was done.

"Even the robe?" Clare asked.

"You don't like?"

"It's so… I dunno. Necromancerish."

"I _am_ a necromancer."

"And it looks like you're wearing the official necromancer uniform now."

"D-don't like a man in uniform?"

"I like a man who's unique."

"Picky, picky."

"Over here." Clare waved Valbanill over to where she was. The main cavern emptied into a downward path to their right. They took it.

"Did you love her?" Clare asked about Annika as they walked in near-darkness.

"That's awfully p-personal," Jak said as he managed to hold in a burp.

"Well, did you?"

"L-l-l, the L-word is strong. I don't t-hink a person like me is capable of ush-such a thing. I think Annika figured that out at s-some point. Seems like it turned out for the b-b-b," Valbanill burped. "Best. She seems like she's happy now, I think. W-hich is good, because life would be cruel indeed if we both ended up miserable."

"Oh, so you're miserable, huh?"

"You d-did-id, find me rotting away in the Imperial Prison."

"Yeah, you're not exactly sunshine and smiles. You are quite the moon child."

They took a turn left and wound up in a chamber with two stone slabs and two skeletons. Clare made a point to destroy both on her own before Valbanill could help.

They found a chest with a weak potion of Healing inside.

"Not exactly high-end stuff," Clare said as she shook the bottle to make sure it was full.

"Y-you don't always g-get the good stuff when you're hiding in a damn cave." Valbanill took the bottle and put it in his pack. "Either that or these guys are as bad at alchemy as they are at casting spells."

The pair headed down another sloping tunnel where they found a rat and a mudcrab. Like with the skeletons before, Clare killed both before Valbanill had a chance to do anything. Clare almost felt bad killing so many weaklings in a row. Fort Chalman had given such a greater challenge than what the contents of Moss Rock Cavern offered. But when Clare thought of it another way, it _was_ a challenge. One she was failing. She had originally come to talk, to hear the side of the necromancer, Raelynn. Instead everything had instantly devolved into violence. Clare mentally reminded herself that it wasn't as if she hadn't _tried_ to talk to the Breton necromancer they had come across. And she had settled that she would still try to talk with Raelynn if they found her. Clare wasn't going to go mindlessly carry out assignation contracts from innkeepers without trying to dig a little deeper.

They went through a wooden door on their left, leading them to a large chamber filled with suffocating blue mist. Four skeletons milled around a collection of coffins in a deep recess further ahead. Clare looked and there were coffins held up on the walls with wooden pegs.

"I get a turn this time," Valbanill said. He summoned a quartet of skeletons right in the midst of their undead foes. "You've been hogging them all."

"By all means. It hasn't exactly been fun bullying all these weaklings."

"I love pickin' on those w-w-weaker than me." The room echoed with the creaks and groans of combat and iron weapons smashing on bones.

"I figured that," Clare said as the pair strolled through the skeleton fight. Clare paused to snip at one of the enemy skeletons before continuing on with Valbanill.

"It saves time and energy on h-healing spellsss afterwards."

They reached a wooden door on the opposite end of the cavern. Clare looked back to see that Valbanill skeleton's had won the battle. So if there had been any doubt in her mind as to the outcome.

Pushing through the wooden door lead the Scorpion Daedra and the Breton into a private chamber. The smell of rotting flesh was heavy in the air.

A small, hooded figure turned to them. "Agryn! What in Oblivion are you doing with a Daedra? I _know_ you can't summon one of those!"

"I think you g-got me confused with somebody else, lady." Valbanill tried to move into the light as best he could.

"I don't know who you are but you—"

"Hey there! Wait!" Clare pleaded. She hoped this necromancer wouldn't be as stubbornly violent as the last one. "We're not here to fight!"

"Too bad. Because that's what you've got on your hands." The necromancer summoned a zombie.

The undead being was a grotesque amalgamation of spoiled, green meat and bones. There were huge wounds on the body, and the pointed ears on its head indicated it had been of Elven origin. What kind of Mer it once was could have been anyone's guess.

Clare felt disgusted as her claws cut through the soft zombie flesh.

The necromancer drew her steel mace and summoned another zombie, this one human in origin.

"C'mon, lady," Clare tried to reason. "I just down the first one like it was nothing. Do you really think summoning another is going to do anything? Can we talk, please? Could you put away the mace and your rotting, undead minion for a moment?"

"Die, cur!"

"You've got to be kidding me!" Clare cut apart the second zombie as easily as the first. She then made her way for the necromancer. She was going to pin the fool down and force a talk.

Red-hot flames streaked her way and enveloped the Scorpion Daedra. Clare skittered and thrashed as she was slowly being cooked alive. Then all at once the attack stopped.

An iron arrow stuck out of the necromancer's right eye. The necromancer fumbled before falling forward.

"Stop thrashing about. Y-you're not helping anything." Valbanill walked over and put his hands on Clare, enveloping her in one of his healing spells. The Scorpion Daedra was glad she hadn't put on her gift from Annika Blue yet; Clare would have been pissed to no end if her nice new clothes had suffered fire damage already. But thankfully that was not the case. The worn belts she wore would not last forever though.

Clare calmed down enough to see that Valbanill had summoned a skeleton archer, which had fired the shot that saved her.

"So much for weaklings," Clare grumbled.

"S-still want to play nice?" Valbanill asked.

"I don't get these people," Clare whined.

"You are a Scorpion Daedra."

"I am _aware_ of that," Clare snapped.

"They're necromancers, not conjurors. They're not used to your kind."

"No one ever is. But it's not like I'm strolling through Skingrad or the Imperial City or something. I would think necromancers would be a little more… understanding."

"J-just because y-y-you're an outcast like them d-d-d-oesn't mean they'll be more understanding of anything."

"You're different."

"B-because I'm a remarkable example of what a necromancer can be."

"An alcoholic?"

"Ha ha." Valbanill's skeleton archer dissipated.

Valbanill relieved the dead necromancer of her hooded robes, stitched leather shoes and a Flare Scroll. The removal of her clothing revealed the necromancer to be a young Bosmer woman with long brown hair.

"I-I'll show you what I m-mean," Valbanill said. He cast a spell at the necromancer's corpse.

All six of Clare's eyes widened as she watched the dead Bosmer get back on her feet and start moaning. She wasn't sure whether she needed to attack or not. "What did you do?"

"Raise Zombie spell. It c-can reanimate the recently deceased to fight as a thrall."

"I haven't seen _this_ kind of spell casting."

"T-that's because i-it isn't introduced u-until _Elder Scrolls V_. But th-is story has mods, obviously. Y-you're not even one of the ten playable r-races. You're n-not even part of the actual l-lore."

"Huh?"

"N-nothing."

Clare shrugged it off as some of Valbanill's occasional drunken ramblings.

With their opponent dead (but back up on her feet), Clare was free to wander about. Cairn bolete mushrooms grew throughout the room. There were mutilated zombie remains on a short, squat alter. Shears and calipers were lying near the undead remains, and Clare could only guess at what the necromancer was actually doing.

"Who could live in a place like this?" Clare wondered aloud.

"T-they could apparently," Valbanill said, and then paused for a second. "Y-you've never b-been to Spiral Skein, have you?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"Just a-a hunch."

Clare didn't see what that had to do with anything. In back was a statue of a regal-looking woman with shoulder-length hair and a small scamp-like creature hugging her base. There was a wooden chest near the statues, which Clare prodded Valbanill to open.

The wooden chest contained a Potion of Cure Poison, a Water Breathing scroll, a petty soul gem and a key.

"A key?" Clare held the trinket as Valbanill packed away the rest of the loot. "A locked chest holding a key to somewhere else. Talk about bureaucracy. How do these idiots get anywhere in their own cave?"

"Assuming the key is to a door that's h-here and not somewhere else."

"Where else would these losers go? They've been scaring away customers at the inn for some time now, as I understand it."

"True."

"These necromancers just seem to be rotting away in this cave." Clare looked at a bed off to the side from the main alter. An old wooden stand held nightshade and a Book of Daedra as well as two measly gold coins.

"S-seems to have all the comforts of home," Valbanill said.

"Home, huh?" Clare realized they had broken into someone's home and had been killing the inhabitants off one by one. The necromancers had every right to be belligerent towards them. Would she not have acted in the same manner if someone had broken into her home? And she was a Scorpion Daedra living in Mundus; Clare was aware and thankful that she hadn't ended up calling some random cave her home.

"Lemme see that key," Valbanill said. Clare handed it over. Valbanill cast another spell.

"What'd you do now?"

"Seeing where we need to go. We missed Raelynn a while back."

"How do you know? Oh wait, don't tell me. That magical spell you cast."

"E-exactly. O-or if you thought about it, you could have checked the map."

"Oh…" Clare trailed off.

They took out the map and it looked different from before. Instead of showing Cyrodiil, it revealed the layout of Moss Rock Cavern that they had traversed.

"There," Valbanill pointed at the green marker on the map. "That's where we want to be, correct? Where Raelynn is? That's w-where she is."

The Bosmer thrall continued to moan.

"Would you get rid of that thing?" Clare asked. "It's creeping me out. Did you have to strip it?"

"W-what? Don't like my naked undead Bosmer boob lady thrall?"

"No."

"This coming from the woman charged with necrophilia. You're a hypocrite." Valbanill took his undead thrall by the hands and started to dance about the room with her. The thrall lazily followed her master's lead.

Irritated, Clare put her claw through the Bosmer's chest and it disintegrated into a pile of ash.

"Much better," the Scorpion Daedra said.

"J-jealous much?"

"You tell me. You seem to be more enthusiastic about giving attention to dainty little Breton girls and undead Bosmer boob women than to me."

"Y-y-y-you are j-j-j-j-jealou-jelly. Jelly."

Clare started to skitter back the way they came.

"You are jelly. Peanut butter and jelly. Are you going to a costume party? Dressed as a jellyfish?"

Clare blew a raspberry. "And _why_ should I be jealous of not getting your attention?" she muttered mostly to herself.

* * *

They backtracked to main chamber with the sprawling tree roots. They turned and took a separate route Clare hadn't noticed the first time around. The tunnel ended in a locked wooden door.

Clare looked at the key she held in her hand. She sighed and shook her head. "Of course, we spent all that time for a key to a door I could have easily just bashed down myself."

"S-s-sounds about right," Valbanill said. "I s-supposed this whole s-situation is some sort of interpretation on life i-itself or something."

For a moment, Clare thought about walking away. The meeting would likely dissolve into violence, if the other necromancers in Moss Rock Cavern were any indication. And Raelynn was likely their leader; the innkeeper knew her by name. But there was no telling what Raelynn was ultimately up to. It was likely aggressive and dangerous, considering what she had seen of their activities so far. The problem was Clare couldn't put her finger on what exactly the necromancers of Moss Rock Cavern were doing beyond creating undead thralls and letting them wander outside the cave at night.

 _No,_ Clare told herself. _These assholes are up to something and I've got to find out what. I've come this far and killed already. Wouldn't make sense to back out now._

She inserted the key and opened the door.

Bone pillars coming up like grasping fingers dominated the room. Long-dried blood was splattered all over the stone tiles. Coffins were scattered everywhere.

An aging female Breton in brown monk robes turned to face them. To her side was a male Imperial in black necromancer robes.

"Who are you?" the old Breton woman demanded.

"I am Clare Sadlygrove. I have come to speak with Raelynn the Gravefinder."

"Regarding what?" the Breton snorted.

"Regarding her residence in Moss Rock Cavern."

"You are speaking to her. But what interest would a Scorpion Daedra have in one such as I? I do not make deals with your kind. I am not so foolish as to engage with servants of the Webspinner."

"I am not a servant of Mephala," Clare stated with annoyance. She had heard that assumption too many times in her life.

"Then who do you serve? And please, don't tell me you're so pitiful a creature to come on behalf of that sad innkeeper."

"And who is your summoner?" the Imperial necromancer inquired.

"How rude of me," Clare said, ultimately thinking she had already acted at the height of all possible rudeness when she had killed these necromancers' friends, but they weren't yet aware of that. "This is Jakrelkill Valbanill. Though he is not my summon—"

"Valbanill?" the Imperial necromancer repeated the name as he turned to Raelynn. "The Order of the Black Skull? Here?"

Both necromancers looked back to Clare and Valbanill and attacked instantaneously.

"Hey! Wait!" Clare cried as she was nearly zapped by lightning.

"Die, damn you!" Raelynn roared. She and her companion summoned a pair of zombies. Valbanill responded by summoning a quartet of skeletons.

Clare was surprised by the speed in which Valbanill moved. Her necromancer companion had already cut off Raelynn from escaping out the room's only exit/entrance.

"Leaving so soon?" Valbanill asked.

"You'll never take me back to High Rock," Raelynn hissed as she stabbed her staff at him.

"N-not our intention. Guess again." Valbanill grabbed the staff with his hands. A freezing wave of cold emanated from his bony fingers and spread down the staff. The wave of cold moved onto Raelynn's hands and up her arms. The elderly Breton woman tried to release her staff but found her hands already frozen to it. She struggled; trying to get away before anymore of the deathly cold chill ran up her arms to her body.

Valbanill kept his grip on the staff tight. Raelynn struggled so hard the frozen parts of her arms snapped off at the elbows. She howled in pain, mindlessly thrashing about. All of her knowledge of healing and the arcane arts were thrown out the window as she suffered the loss of both her arms.

The Imperial necromancer was intelligent. He kept his distance from Clare at all costs, summoning zombies to keep between them and hurling ranged spells at the Scorpion Daedra when he could manage.

But Clare was fast, able to skitter from side to side to avoid the fireballs and frost spells. And she was able to cut down the zombies in a single stroke. But between the bone spires and coffins everywhere, there wasn't much room for Clare to maneuver. Instead of allowing the environment to remain a hindrance, she turned it to her advantage. She grabbed one of the coffins in her claws and used it as added reach to instantly smack the Imperial necromancer.

The Imperial was stunned and stumbled to get back on his feet. But Valbanill's skeletons were upon him before he could recover. He disappeared under a flurry of bones and his own strained cries.

Clare looked to see that Valbanill had dealt with Raelynn. The Gravefinder was lying on the floor, bleeding out from her wounds.

"So much for diplomacy," Clare muttered.

"I-it was our own brand of dip-diplomacy," Valbanill said. "B-besides. Isn't this what the innkeeper hired you to do anyway?"

Clare didn't bother to answer. In some way, she felt like a cheap assassin.

Valbanill opened a locked wooden chest to reveal a weak potion of Detect Life and six gold. He grumbled. "Where's the booze? What kind of operation were they runnin' here?"

On the altar at the center of the room, Clare found a pewter plate with a ruby, sapphire, pearl and topaz. She looked over at a little stone figure of a Daedra, though she couldn't tell which Daedra it was. The lit candles cast flickering shadows as she took the jewels and gave them to Valbanill to hold.

"We'll need proof of her death," Clare said. She grabbed Raelynn's corpse in her claws and snipped off the head from the body. "Have your skeletons wrap this up as a little present."

Valbanill laughed. "I like the way you think."

* * *

Coming out from the forest and back down the hill towards the Roxey Inn, Clare noticed bedroll laid out right behind the inn.

"Wow, I doubt anyone has claims on that. We couldn't slept for free," Clare said.

"I-I ink-think that bedroll is a wee bit small for a woman of your… stature."

"And the bed wasn't small? That sad bed cost ten whole gold."

Clare and Valbanill circled around the inn and entered. It was empty now with Annika and her army of retainers gone.

"I could use some good news right about now. With that Breton girl gone I haven't a single customer to serve," Malene the innkeeper said as they approached the front desk. She gave Valbanill a dirty look; Clare assumed it was because of his new attire. "I assume you've dealt with Raelynn appropriately."

"Yeah, we killed her," Clare admitted as she plopped a wet bag on the wooden desk.

"What's this?" Malene asked as she opened the bag. There was a sharp gasp as she unveiled the contents.

"Her head."

"That, that wasn't necessary," Malene struggled to catch her breath.

"Had to prove it some way. You never said how. And this was better than bringing the whole body with us." Clare managed a wry smile.

"I realize it's in poor taste to celebrate anyone's demise, but Raelynn was evil through and through. You've done the right thing. I believe we had a contract. Here's my part."

The innkeeper passed off twenty coins to Clare. The Scorpion Daedra paused, looking down at the coins in pure disbelief. Had she just killed someone for twenty measly coins? Cheap assassin indeed.

"Thank you for saving my business, I won't forget it."

"You're quite welcome." Clare to had to keep herself from reaching across the desk and grabbing the Nord by the throat. "Have you heard any rumors lately?" Clare asked, hoping to fish out any information regarding how fast news of the Emperor's murder had traveled or if Annika Blue was just that must better connection than the typical person.

"Still no news out of Aleswell since everybody vanished. Strange business."

"Aleswell?" Clare asked.

"A small settlement to the northwest of here, on the other side of the Silver Road to Bruma. We've had travelers through recently that say it's turned into a ghost town. Everyone vanished without a trace."

"We might go have a look." Clare looked over at Valbanill, who merely shrugged.

"Might as well, it's on the way."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Copyright belongs to Bethesda Softworks.

This chapter was a collaboration with Lesliewifeofbath (who can be found over at DeviantART). Annika Blue belongs to Lesliewifeofbath.

I really enjoyed collaborating with Leslie. I'm not used to working with others but I would be willing to do something like this again in the future.

I played through the quest _The Gravefinder's Repose_ several times while writing this chapter. There really is a bedroll right behind the Roxey Inn. The amount of gold Clare received from Malene for completing the quest is the lowest amount possible she will offer in the actual game. The base reward is 20 gold if the character is level 1 and it increases by 25 gold per level until level 30 where it tops out at 745 gold. Of course this doesn't match the story, as Clare is clearly not level 1. Clare has slept and received a couple of leveling messages during the story thus far. Though the first time she woke up in the beginning of Chapter 2 had no message that correlates with any leveling message that can be found within _Elder Scrolls IV_. I dubbed this level 1. Based on the other two messages Clare has received thus far she would be level 3 upon turning the quest in to Malene. But any 'leveling' has no effect on the story and the leveling messages are just there as a fun little nod to the game. I just gave her the 20 gold reward to be difficult because life sucks sometimes and you find out you slaughtered a cavern full of necromancers for a measly 20 gold.


	5. Sercen

**Chapter 5: Sercen**

It wasn't until they were well away from the inn that Clare felt the need to voice her opinion on the matter, if only to create conversation. It wasn't as if she didn't enjoy the chirping birds of the soft whispers of the wind, but for once she had a traveling buddy and she definitely needed the companionship.

"Only twenty gold coins. I guess we should'a asked what the reward was before going on that little side quest."

"S-so, we just murdered a bunch of innocent people for twenty gold. The bed we paid for last night cost ten gold. So, we made a profit of ten gold for the wanton slaughter of people guilty of no other crime besides practicing necromancy. I-I guess that makes us the bad guys?"

The way Jakrelkill put it made it sound really bad. And Clare realized it wasn't untrue, but it wasn't completely fair either.

"You're going to defend them? They tried to kill us."

"We told them to pack up and leave for no good reason. They w-were just hanging out in a cave. They weren't bothering anybody. It's not like they were attacking the inn or something. That innkeeper just hates necromancers."

"Their minions were running around scaring people off and killing her business."

"So the answer is to just up and kill them all?" Jakrelkill asked. "Over t-the level of an inn's 'business?'"

"We _tried_ talking to them," Clare was quick to remind her companion.

"W-we tried to evict them from a _cave_. Where else are they s-supposed to go? It's the Mage's Guild's fault necromancers have been reduced to hiding in caves in the-the-the first place."

"I can't believe you're defending the assholes that tried to kill us." Clare shook her head.

"O-okay. Th-they're ass-assholes, I'll grant you. B-b-but so am I. I'm a-a necromancer and an asshole t-too. Just-ust like them. If how we-e met had-ad been so different, would you be so willing to kill me?"

"No, a smooth-talker like you is much too charming. Besides, if you remember, which I very much doubt you do considering how much you drink, I _was_ ready to cut you in half when we met. But you didn't want to fight and I didn't want to fight and we worked it out. And look at us now. Raelynn and her group weren't willing to talk. We did act in self-defense."

Valbanill laughed. "Y-e-yeah. I get it. A-and now you make me wonder what it would be like if they did talk. W-w-what if they joined you like I id-did? You'd have a small army of necromancers followin' you around on your quest."

"I'm not looking to become Queen of the Necromancers."

"Why not? S-sounds like a lovely title to me."

"I'm finding that necromancers are rather needy. I don't think I can handle more than one."

"Yeah, you're r-right. I'm the most necromancer you're ever going to need."

"Not _that_ way," Clare mock protested.

"W-with all my stamina and endurance spells, I can last all night."

"Damn right! That's what I like to hear." Clare scooped Valbanill with her claw and pushed him towards her. She actively ran her hand through his short hair and pet his head. The fool Breton had certainly said the right thing.

Clare felt her face getting very warm and caught herself smiling intently. The Scorpion Daedra had the sudden urge to sink her teeth into the Breton. Realizing she was getting overexcited from such a simple comment prompted her to try and steer the direction of the conversation back towards something Jakrelkill had said before.

"So, what's this about the Mage's Guild being at fault?"

"Eh? Oh. That. Y-y-you don't know?"

"No. Not really. I'm not intimately familiar with the politics of magicka-users."

"Oh, I-I could help you get _very_ intimate with magicka-based politics."

Clare noticed Jakrelkill was smiling as hard as she was. And him smiling too hard could definitely lead to some things. An image of the two of them fucking in the middle of the road came to mind. Not the best idea, but when it came to Valbanill, it was completely believable. But they didn't exactly have much expectation of privacy out in the middle of the Red Ring Road.

"So, spill it. What's going on?" Clare released Valbanill from her grip so the two of them could continue to walk at a reasonable pace.

"Aw, you're n-no fun."

"Yes I am. And I'm actually interested. I never would have pegged you for a political animal."

"I-I'm not. But I can't help this."

"Then tell me. What, are you trying to keep this shit a secret? Do I need to join the Order of the Necromancers first? What's got necromancers holed up in caves?"

"It's Arch-Mage Traven. Y-you at least know who he is, right?"

"The leader of the Mage's Guild."

"R-right. That asswipe. Once he became Arch-Mage, he banned the practice of necromancy."

"Uh, I don't know much, but I do know necromancy is legal within the Empire."

"He banned it from the Mage's Guild. He'd b-ban it from all of the Empire if he could. From all of Mundus."

"But he can't. So what if necromancers were kicked out of the wizards' club?" Clare asked. "You don't seem like the type to follow Guild rules anyway."

"I-I don't. I'm not that stupid. But the Mage's Guild won't e-even deal with anybody who practices necromancy. Traven's doing all he can to make life miserable for necromancers everywhere. H-he's trying his best to sway public opinion against necromancy."

"I'm guessing it's working?"

"A l-lot of the time known necromancers have a hard time finding places to stay anymore. We've b-been labeled as criminals, thieves and murderers who p-practice obscene magicka solely for the sake of being evil."

"Damn. I can relate."

"It's all Traven's fault. I don't know what Daedra crawled up his ass but he's makin' it everyone's problem."

"Sorry, I can't help with that. I can't change the political fighting of magicka-users," Clare said. "I do know what it feels like to be an outcast though."

Just then Clare's six eyes picked up a small flash of red. Acting on instinct she instantly grabbed Jakrelkill and shoved him aside right as a fireball went scorching by.

"W-what the what?" Valbanill demanded.

A male Altmer dressed in a cyan robe and a scamp were rushing towards them.

"Looks like I'm learning about the intimate politics of magicka-users after all." Clare released Valbanill and the two readied themselves for a fight.

"You dodged my first attack but you won't be so lucky a second time!" the High Elf conjurer warned.

"That's good to know," Clare grumbled back.

The scamp veered off for Clare while the conjurer and the necromancer started casting spells at each other.

"Speaking of people that just fight and won't talk things out," Clare muttered as she skittered to the side to avoid a fireball from the scamp. After his magical attack missed, the scamp threw his entire body into a tackle, but the Scorpion Daedra caught him in her claws and sliced him in two. Clare was a little surprised that the body didn't dissipate after she had killed the scamp; apparently it was not just a summoned minion but had been bound to the realm of Mundus.

Clare skittered up on the conjurer while the Altmer was busy trying to hit the necromancer with fireballs and lightning blasts. But before the Scorpion Daedra could reach the him, the High Elf wordlessly summoned a daedroth to bar her path. Coated in ugly yellow scales, the animalistic Daedra resembled a large, bipedal alligator.

Clare was forced for face off with the daedroth as the two wizards continued to fire off poorly aimed spells at one another.

"What sort of necromancer conjures a Scorpion Daedra?" the Altmer asked.

"M-maybe I killed a necromancer and took his robes," Valbanill shot back. The funny part is that Valbanill was telling the truth. He was wearing the robes of one of the necromancers he and Clare had killed back at Moss Rock Cavern.

"I very much doubt that, necromancer scum!"

"Maybe I'm a necromancer that killed another necromancer and took that necromancer's robes." Again, Valbanill was being truthful.

"What nonsense. Just die already!" The Altmer summoned a hunger.

"I-I-I have a counter argument. You die!" Valbanill summoned a pair of skeletons.

Clare was in trouble, the daedroth had height and reach against her. It kept lashing out with elongated talons, which Clare had to keep batting away with her own claws. She finally managed to snip its hand but the large Daedra was able to pull away from Clare's grip.

The daedroth sprang with open jaws, toothy maw gaping to clamp right down on the human portion of Clare's body. But instead of munching on Clare's skull, the daedroth got a mouthful of scorpion tail. The stinger pierced through the tongue and lodged right into the daedroth's lower jaw.

The reptilian Daedra tried to howl and shake itself free of the scorpion tail and Clare tried to use her tail to pull the daedroth's head down to the ground. After several moments of struggling, the daedroth limped over, Clare's venom taking effect. The Scorpion Daedra was able to pull her stinger out from the daedroth's mouth and started slashing away at its head until the creature died and dissipated from the realm.

"Wait!" the conjurer turned just in time to see the angry Scorpion Daedra barreling down on him. As if Clare was going to wait. The Altmer summoned a clannfear but the Scorpion Daedra scuttled right past it and cut him down with her claws. With its summoner dead, the clannfear disappeared.

"Worthless conjurer filth." Valbanill kicked the shredded corpse of the Altmer.

"So, we have a problem with killing necromancers but don't care when it comes to conjurers?" Clare asked.

"Well, yeah. Conjurers are jerks."

"Wow… you have no idea how much of a hypocrite you are, do you?"

"N-no." Valbanill went about trying to loot what was left of the corpse.

"What's the difference?" Clare asked as she tried to shake the blood from her claws.

"Conjuring Daedra is dangerous. They're like the peasant class, they will plot to destroy you if you can't control them."

"And the dead won't?" Clare asked.

"Zombies are too stupid. Skeletons are loyal. Ghosts and wraiths are… a l-little more complicated."

"Right." Clare watched Valbanill. His hands was getting bloody as he worked to strip everything of value from the carcass.

"Y-you have to remember, glary, scary, Clare. T-that this asshole just upped and attacked us o-out, out of nowhere."

"You have a point. Though this dynamic is getting old."

"W-what dynamic? Killing fools that think they can k-kill us? W-w-w-would you like to go back to being chased by a herd of minotaurs again?"

"Nah, I'll pass on the minotaurs. Maybe a horde of chickens for next time. Change it up a bit."

"C-check this out, glass dagger. He's got a ring too." Valbanill passed the small weapon to Clare.

"Let me guess, it's a wedding ring. Plot twist. We killed a married man just trying to provide for his family. And he resorted to highway robbery because he was all out of options."

Valbanill burped. "Nice guess. I-t certainly would make for an interesting story. It's a magical ring."

"Oh well. Tried my best. Maybe this guy was simply a greedy fetcher." Clare admired the smooth green blade.

"Maybe reedy g-greedy. But t-this guy was not simple."

"Oh? He didn't seem so tough."

"He was e-expecting to kill me in one blow. Y-you missed, messed that up. You always, errr—also kind'a cut him sort. Figuratively and literally."

"Right. But I don't see how that makes him not simple." Clare was confused.

"This." Valbanill held it up.

"His bag. So what?" Clare shrugged. "You have one too. I assume he carries his food and stuff in it."

"N-no. T-t-this is difference—different."

"It's a bag, you stinking drunk. A bag."

"It's a Bag of Holding."

"Huh?"

"A magical bag. Look." Valbanill started pulling out many items from the seemingly innocuous sack. "Bigger on the inside than on the outside. You can basically put as much stuff as you want in this thing as-as long as you can carry it."

"How much shit does he have in there?" Clare asked.

"D-dunno. It's not that heavy." Valbanill took the iron and steel maces he had tied on his waist that he had pilfered from the necromancers before and stuffed them in the Bag of Holding. He then put the previous normal bag he had been carrying around into the enchanted one. Clare found the entire sight to be rather odd and surreal.

"Here." Clare handed over the glass dagger to be stowed away.

"S-shall we continue?"

"Yes, let's." Clare and Valbanill started off along the road again. "So, we got a magical bag, magical map and compass, magic ring and some magic wine. We are quite the treasure hunters."

"Yeah. This is—this is going pretty well," Valbanill agreed.

"Now I just need an enchanted corset that makes my boobs grow bigger and I'll be set."

"W-what's wrong with your boobs?" the necromancer asked.

"They are _small_ ," Clare said insipidly.

"So, what's wrong with small boobs?"

"You don't exactly attract handsome adventurers with small boobs. But you do apparently attract drunken necromancers."

"I-I don't think you'd enjoy shallow advertisements—adventurers gawking at you."

"Maybe I'd like the attention."

"M-maybe you should try attracting people with your winning personality."

"It doesn't work that way," Clare said. "Besides, it's always my eyes, or claws and tail and legs—my body that catch everyone's attention. In a bad way."

"F-f-forget them," Valbanill drunkenly fizzled out for a moment but picked back up his line of thought. "What do they know? They're stupid. The vast majority of people in this realm are s-stupid. Don't listen to t-them."

"Easier said than done."

"I think you look gorgeous."

Clare felt like she was glowing. Her words stuck in her throat and she merely coughed out a giggle.

"Don't listen to them. Listen to me. Screw them," Valbanill said.

They could see some ruins up ahead near the road.

Valbanill pulled out the map. "T-that's Sercen up ahead."

"Looks like we've found our resting place." Clare eyed the map as Valbanill held it. "We've still got quite a ways to go from here."

"F-fine by m-m-e if you wanna stop."

Upon reaching the edge of the ruins, Clare veered off down toward Lake Rumare.

"I'm filthy and I stink. I'm going for a swim. Go play in Sercen or something, Jak."

"W-w-why do I gotta go in the r–r-r-ruins?"

"Because I'm not putting on a show for you, that's why. Try to round up some food or something. We've got a long way to go and only so much food. It would do us some good to save a bit by catching more."

"A-all that lettuce we got isn't g-gonna last forever, ya know."

"Maybe there's some long forgotten alcohol lying around in Sercen. You never know unless you look."

"Y-yeah. Yeah. I'll check it out."

Clare knew that suggestion would get him going. Valbanill grumbled to himself as he left. She watched until the Breton was out of her sight, and then she waited a moment before undoing the belts around her chest. Tossing them on the grass, Clare gave one last look to make sure Valbanill wasn't there before wading into the water. He seemed to like her breasts, and she found that odd. Her chest had never garnered attention from men before. But she wasn't in the mood to put on a show right now. Valbanill was turning out to be quite the charmer and that could lead to some things very quickly and Clare figured she should try to take things slow. Besides, she was still a little irritated from Annika Blue the day before.

The water was cool and refreshing and Clare submerged herself completely. She could feel the grime peeling away from her. It had been way too long since the last time she had a proper bath, but this would have to do. Clare was accustomed to making do with whatever life threw at her. Things hadn't exactly been easy, even before she had been framed.

Through the water, Clare noticed that a slaughterfish was swimming in her direction. Of course, life was never easy, nor was it fair. No proper bath for Clare, but she had to deal with slaughterfish coming at her while she tried to bath in a lake. Once the toothy fish was close enough Clare snared it in her claws and killed it. If nothing else, she had just caught herself dinner.

The Scorpion Daedra surfaced and rubbed the water from her eyes. The water was starting to get bloody from the slaughterfish.

"Just great," Clare sighed. Her eight legs started to propel her back towards the shore. She needed to drop off the dead fish before it made any more of a mess and she certainly didn't need the blood in the water attracting any other aquatic predators. Though Clare did ponder the idea of purposefully attracting other marine life with the blood in order to acquire more food to eat.

Her thoughts were interrupted by what Clare thought was movement up higher on the shore. She didn't make it out in time, but she swore she saw something. She could venture a guess as to who it was.

"Valbanill. I thought you were going to explore Sercen for a little while—" Clare's inquiry was cut off as an arrow was suddenly lodged in her right shoulder. The Scorpion Daedra hacked and wheezed and submerged herself in the water again just as a second arrow flew in her direction.

Clare swam closer to the bottom of the lake, just as several arrows plunged into the water. The hostile archer was still trying to hit her. The Scorpion Daedra began swimming for the shore quickly. Her claw had released its grip on the slaughterfish corpse but now Clare was bleeding into the lake. Clare hoped it wasn't enough to cause a notable change in the color of the water and thus tip off the archer to her submerged location.

Her legs pushed her forward, her mind racing. Who was shooting arrows at her? Were they alone or a group? What had happened to Jakrelkill? Was he dead? Captured? Was he in the ruin, completely oblivious to Clare's situation?

With questions in her head, the Scorpion Daedra ferociously thrashed out onto the shore to find some answers and was met with arrows. Another arrow struck her in her left breast as Clare stormed towards the source of the ranged attack.

Clare could make out the outline of her attacker as the figure backed away from a tree as she closed in. The archer was clad in black and Clare couldn't make out the race or sex. About the only thing she could tell was that it was a biped. Not that it mattered. The Scorpion Daedra planned on killing the archer.

But another arrow struck right at her stomach. Clare let out a pained hiss as she finally tackled the archer. She could see the determined face of a male Bosmer staring back up at her. She had him pinned. Her left claw found his neck but she didn't close her appendage yet.

"Who are you? Why are you—" Clare could hear the sounds of battle up near the ruin. A lot of people were fighting. She had somewhat of an answer and decided that the Bosmer that shot her with three arrows had just run out of luck. The Wood Elf struggled and she easily decapitated him with a quick snip of her claw.

Clare paused for a moment, taking in several deep breaths. The arrows hurt a lot, but at least she hadn't been shot in the throat this time. She couldn't deal with it right now, this was a job for Valbanill's healing and if he was still alive he had to be somewhere up near the ruins.

Topless and full of arrows, Clare headed up to the relics of Sercen.

"I'm a shoehorn! I'll malice you with my zombies!"

Clare recognized that voice. It was the drunken war cry of Valbanill.

Reaching the edge of Sercen Clare found quite a sight. Valbanill had summoned a quartet of skeleton archers to deal with the attackers, and not zombies as he had claimed in his battle cry. But the Scorpion Daedra realized within an instant that there were two separate groups the skeletons were fighting. One group dressed in black that seemed to be completely comprised of archers, and another group clad in armor. And not only were the attackers fighting Valbanill and the skeletons, but each other as well! Clare had stumbled into a three-way brawl.

She chose the nearest opponent, a Nord in rusty iron armor wielding a battle-axe. She killed him effortlessly. Then she went after an Argonian in fur armor and took him down.

A large Orc lumbered for Clare.

"Look into my eyes, with your six, daughter of Mephala and you will see the true terror of Cyrodiil. After that, you won't see much. For I am Lo bru-Mack, leader of the Maverick Marauders."

"Maverick? You look pretty standard to me," Clare retorted as her claws clashed with bru-Mack's great-axe. "Though you seem to have a better vocabulary than the typical Orsimer marauder."

Another arrow lodged into Clare. She saw that it was from one of the marauder archers this time, helping out his leader no doubt. But a second later and the marauder archer had an arrow threw her head from one of Valbanill's skeletons.

That just left Clare to deal with the Orc again, or so she thought. An arrow struck the Orc in the shoulder. The shot had come from above…

And Clare found yet another arrow striking her in the stomach.

She looked skyward and actually found someone up there. Reptilian wings beat as the airborne archer rained down arrows upon the marauders. It was a winged Argonian.

"Am I missing something?" Clare asked in a ragged breath. "When did Argonians sprout wings?"

"A Sarpa!" Valbanill yelled. "You d-don't find them outside of Black Marsh very often because they're all a bunch of _cowards_!" The necromancer tried to taunt the aerial archer.

"I am Hecia of the Black Bow Bandits," the Sarpa spoke. "And you are all—"

"E-enough with the intros!" Valbanill fired off an ice spike at the winged Argonian that nearly clipped her wing and forced her to move. "Y-y-you're all gonna die right here and now. It doesn't m-matter if we know your names or not!"

Clare locked her claws on bru-Mack's battle-axe. The Orc tried to shake the Scorpion Daedra off but failed. Clare was barely able to hold on though. She wasn't sure if he was overtly strong or if she was failing due to the abundance of arrows currently lodged in her. But needed this fight to end. There was no time for games. Her stinger shot forward, broke past the Orcish chest armor and lodged into the leader of the Maverick Marauders.

Lo bru-Mack let out a sharp yelp as the air left his lungs. Clare ripped her venomous stinger out and backed away a few steps as the Orc clumsily tried to swing his axe at her. A quick couple of slashes and the Orc fell.

Clare felt an arrow hit her armored shell, but instead of sticking in her it merely bounced off. She went after the Black Bow Bandit that tried to take her out. The Argonian had failed miserably compared to all the other archers today. All the others had managed to make their arrows stick in her. She grabbed the fool and torn him to pieces.

The Scorpion Daedra could still hear arrows flying, though nothing connected with her for a change. She grabbed the dead bandit's black bow and looked around at her potential targets. The marauders were almost all dead. Only a few Black Bow Bandits left. Valbanill was down to one skeleton but summoned up three more to replace those he had lost in the fighting.

Another arrow hit Clare. It had come from above, the Sarpa being the attacker. Clare ripped out one of the arrows sticking from her and notched it on the bow.

"Okay, bitch. Let's see how you like it." With all six eyes in intense concentration, Clare let loose the arrow. It found its mark and struck the Sarpa.

From the distance they were, it looked as if the winged Argonian was grasping at her throat.

"Hurts, doesn't it? How do you like taste of your own arrows, you winged whore?"

The Sarpa flapped erratically before seemingly stopping and getting carried off by a strong gust of wing as she slowly fell into the forest beyond Sercen.

A moment later and a single wingless Argonian bandit found himself outnumbered by a necromancer, four skeletons and a very angry Scorpion Daedra. The Black Bow Bandit fired off one more arrow before turning to run. The skeleton archers pumped his backside full of iron shafts.

The fighting was done. Corpses of bandits and marauders lay everywhere.

Clare wheezed heavily. "Hey, Jak, buddy. I-I'm not doing so good." Her hands wandered in front of her, probing over the arrows sticking out of her. She didn't feel like ripping out any more herself.

"C-Clare!" Valbanill rushed to her. Has soon as he got his hands on her arm Clare was enveloped in a spell, though she had no idea which incantation it was.

"I still feel like shit, buddy."

"W-well no duh, Clare. You're f-full o-arrows. T-they gotta come out first. You don't want me using healing spells with those still in you. Things get more complicated trying to mend flesh with weapons embedded in you. I-I gave you a Fortification spell. Now I gotta get those n-nasty arrows out."

"Okay, do it. Hurry. Make the hurting stop please," Clare said as sweetly as she could manage. Her voice was raspier than usual.

"Quick fix, here we go." Valbanill wasted no time in pulling out the arrows in fast succession, eliciting painful yelps from Clare each time.

"W-w-what is it with you and arrows?"

"Shut up and heal me you bastard!" Clare snapped. She felt one hand on her left breast and another on her stomach as Valbanill cast a healing spell on her. "Having fun, you pervert?"

"I'm being serious, Clare. You're full of holes and bleeding a lot. A lot. I'm trying to fix this!"

Clare could feel the healing spell take effect. And at least Valbanill seemed honest with his answer. At least his hand was on the breast that had been shot and it was feeling bad. She believed him that he was being completely serious right now. Clare closed her six eyes but instantly reopened them as it had focused too much of her senses on the healing spell. Instead she chose to look off the to side as it was awkward looking at Valbanill as he cast the healing spell on her.

After a minute the spell finally subsided and Valbanill quickly took his hands off the Scorpion Daedra and backed up.

"T-there, all better."

"Thank you." Clare's hands tracked over her skin, checking for wounds. She felt nothing wrong other than being covered in her own blood. Just as usual when Valbanill healed her.

"You're welcome."

"You're such a good healer."

"Y-you say that a lot."

"I've been getting hurt a lot. I don't know which is worse. Getting an axe in my claw or stuffed full of arrows. I'm sure next time it will be both at the same time." Clare didn't bother trying to cover herself up, despite Jak's eyes on her. She had been running around topless the entire battle anyway and after all the physical pain she had gone through she just couldn't find the energy to care at the moment.

"T-this quest has it out for you. S-should have just ditched the amulet with Annika. Or in the lake."

"Marauders. Miserable assholes." Clare spat on one of the armored corpses. Bandits were bad but marauders were worse. Bandits stole for survival and profit. Marauders killed and looted for the fun of it.

"I'm g-getting too old for this shit."

"How old are you anyway?" Clare asked.

"Uhh… somewhere in my thirties… I think… I hope… I don't rightly remember…"

"You don't know how old you are?"

"N-n-no, I guess not." Valbanill admitted. "At a certain point in life one no longer wishes to remember their age." He summoned more skeletons and ordered them to loot the corpses.

"Okay, Jak. I guess I'll go explore Sercen and you can take a dip in the lake."

"Eh, you sure you don't want to go in again?"

"Last time I attracted a slaughterfish and an archer. Your turn. Oh, and try to find that slaughterfish for me. That was supposed to be our dinner."

"Y-you're all bloody. You sure? I'm n-not sayin' it's a bad look or anything."

"Oh, right." Clare had forgotten. "I guess I do have to clean up."

The Scorpion Daedra took a quick dip in the lake. Only long enough to wash the blood off her. Then she strapped her belts to her chest again. She was about to ask Valbanill for the outfit Annika had given her, but suddenly thought against it. She had gotten an image in her head of some monster hiding in Sercen, tearing away at her nice new clothes. She did not need that. The belts would do for now.

Clare left Valbanill and his skeletons outside for the innards of Sercen. The first hall was empty and barren, as would be expected to the entrance of any Ayleid ruin. Most ruins all around Cyrodiil had long been looted and one had to dig deep to find anything, or that had been Clare's experience. The path forced her to take a left and the Scorpion Daedra kept going until the path emptied into a large chamber.

Welkynd stones provided sufficient illumination for the room. Clare kept her eyes and ears sharp. She wasn't expecting any bandits or marauders, she and Valbanill had taken care of all those already. But there could always be other things lurking in the shadows.

It appeared that all of the passages further in the structure were caved in. Sercen was a small place. Clare thought about nabbing all the welkynd stones and giving them to Valbanill. But before she even got started, the Scorpion Daedra heard a noise.

The sound wasn't particularly aggressive or threatening and Clare was having a hard time place what kind of creature it belonged to. She followed the sound to a path blocked with rubble.

"What is that?" she asked aloud.

A stream of green fire enveloped her. Clare threw her hands up over her eyes and her claws up over the human portion of her body. But the fire subsided as soon as it appeared. Clare was so glad to have chosen the belts, or Annika's nice gift would have been charred.

Clare looked to see that it was a shalk—a massive black beetle with large jaws. She had seen them before, from a traveling Dunmer merchant. This one kept making a weird noise and Clare realized it was injured. Half of its shell looked like it had been crushed.

The shalk tried to growl another warning at Clare, but it ended up sounding so pitiful. Clare decided not to move to attack, this animal was only trying to defend itself. Between conjurers, bandits and marauders, she had seen enough death for one day.

"Ah, you're hurt. Poor baby," she cooed. "Did those mean marauders up top hurt you?"

The shalk's jaws opened and closed slowly as it listened to Clare.

"What are you doing in here, buddy? Hiding? You're kind'a cute, you know. I think you might make a certain other guy jealous."

She motioned for the shalk to come to her but it didn't budge from its partial hiding place in the rubble. She lowered herself closer to the ground and tried not to look so imposing.

"C'mon, baby. I won't hurt you."

The shalk chittered at her but still didn't move.

"Hm, maybe you're hungry. I'll go find you some food."

As she turned and started skittering away, she could hear the shalk cry out.

"What, baby?" she said in a loving tone. "You wanna come with me? You gotta be brave."

Despite the insectile chittering that felt like protests to her leaving, Clare kept going. If that got the shalk to follow her, all the better.

But when Clare reached the exit to Sercen she looked back to realize that the shalk was not following her.

With a sigh Clare went back out to find Valbanill. He had already taken a dip in the lake and seemed to be fussing with his appearance via a reflection in the water. He had ditched the necromancer's robes and stuck to just the dark shirt and black wide pants he had gotten off one of the necromancers from Moss Rock Cavern. It wasn't the best outfit but it suited him far better than the robes, even if he was a necromancer there was no need for him to walk around looking like a stereotype. Clare noticed that Valbanill kept messing with his short hair, and realized he was fussing with his hairline.

Clare looked over at the pile of gear the skeletons had amassed from the dead bandits and marauders and grabbed an item.

"You're doting on your appearance like a young lass on her wedding day. Nothing's less attractive than a guy so concerned with how he looks."

"T-this coming from Miss Where's-My-Magical-Corset-To-Make-My-Boobs-Bigger."

"And I can't believe you're so worried about your hairline when you have those crooked-ass teeth," Clare added.

"What are you, a professional asshole all of a sudden?"

"Nope. Just an amateur. Take this." Clare handed Valbanill the dark cloth she took from the pile of loot.

"Eh." The necromancer fiddled with the bandana until Clare took it from him and wrapped it around his head for him.

"There. The 'military' look." Clare was pleased.

"I'm the last man that would ever join the Legion," Valbanill protested.

"Oh huff. It looks good on you. And it helps hide that hairline you keep fussing with," Clare chided. "Besides, I'm the one that has to look at you all the time, so help me out here."

The necromancer burped. "Find any booze?"

"Nope. I did find something though."

"R-really? What?"

"It's a surprise. I'd rather show than tell."

"T-this is either gonna be really good or really bad."

Clare guided Valbanill through Sercen all the way to the shalk, which was still in the same spot Clare had left it.

"W-w-what?" Valbanill groaned as the large bug hissed and chittered at him. "I-I knew it was gonna be bad."

"It's a shalk," Clare said. "Hardly bad. Look at its shell. It's hurt."

"It's a male," the necromancer said.

"How can you tell?"

"The shape of the mandibles."

"I figured we can lure him out with some of that lettuce from our stockpile and then you could heal him."

"Y-you w-w-were supposed to find us food and drink," Valbanill complained. "Not f-find something else to _consume_ our food and drink. You have it backwards, scorpion girl."

"Don't be such a heartless jerk."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it, scorpion girl." He pulled out a head of lettuce and handed it to Clare.

Clare crept towards the shalk's hiding spot and gently put down the lettuce. She backed up a few paces and waited to see if the bug would finally come out.

"Come on, baby. Get the food. Get the num nums."

Valbanill groaned.

"Shush, you," the Scorpion Daedra told the Breton.

The shalk finally came out and started munching on the lettuce. When it was halfway through the food Clare offered it another one. The bug took noticed as she approached, pausing with open jaws. But Clare gently placed the second head of lettuce and gave the shalk his space.

The shalk went back to eating. Soon once the second ball of lettuce was almost gone, Clare risked moving closer and held out an empty hand.

"D-don't do it," Valbanill said.

"Why not?"

"Animals, people, monsters, whoever, often bite the hand that feeds them."

"Why?"

"Because it smells like food." As soon as the Breton muttered the sentence, the Scorpion Daedra let out a yelp. The shalk had indeed bitten her hand.

The shalk pulled back, wary of the noise Clare had made. The Scorpion Daedra let out a hissing sigh of frustration but moved her hand back out again. This time the shalk inspected her hand with his antenna. Clare giggled at the touch.

Understanding that it was a hand and not food, the shalk didn't bite again and stead crawled over to Clare. The shalk sounded like it was purring, or whatever the bug equivalent of purring was.

"See? I made a friend," Clare said. "And you'll make one too if you come over here and heal him."

Valbanill moved in.

"Not so fast, Jak. You'll scare him."

"W-wow. Does this have to be so d-difficult? I'm the healer here. The bug should accommodate me if anything."

"He doesn't understand and you know it."

The necromancer moved slower until he got his hand on the shalk. Then he slowly cast his spell. Clare watched as the shalk's armored bent back into place. The bug chittered happily and his feelers were exploring all over Valbanill's hand.

"T-there. All done."

"Baby says thank you."

"Yeah, yeah."

"See, you're such a good guy."

"If you say so."

Valbanill went about looting the welkynd stones from Sercen as Clare pet the shalk and eventually got it to play tug-of-war with her over an old bone they found lying around.

Once Valbanill was done collecting what little loot Sercen had to offer, the room had gotten notably darker, though the necromancer held one welkynd stone out with his hand to help light the place.

"We goin' back out?" Valbanill asked.

"Yeah, let's see if we can get him to follow us."

And to Clare's delight, the shalk followed her out of Sercen this time. Day was turning to dusk.

"I w-wonder what a shalk is doing this far west? You usually see these things crawling around Morrowind. Maybe Black Marsh."

Clare simply shrugged.

"What do you think about the name Gunter?" Clare asked as she pulled out some cheese and lettuce from the Bag of Holding for herself and the shalk.

"Ah, don't name him. You name 'em and then you can't let 'em go. That's how it works."

"I've always wanted a pet," Clare said.

"No-not the best idea. Wait till they die on you," Valbanill grumbled.

"It would have died if we didn't help."

"Well, he's your responsibility. Your shalk." Valbanill went around and started to pose the marauder and bandit corpses in a sexually suggestive manner as if it were the most obvious thing in the world to do at that point in time.

"Aw, don't listen to daddy," Clare said to the shalk. "He loves you. Now finish those num nums and then we'll make camp."

"D-don't tell me you're gonna talk to him like that the whole trip," Valbanill said.

"Jealous you don't get the lovin'?"

"Y-y-you wish."

"You annoy me all the time with your stupid undead romance jokes. Looks like I found something you enjoy as well."

"Oh, c'mon. I barely had any! It's not every day you need some good jokes on necrophilia. A-at least not till I met you."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Copyright belongs to Bethesda Softworks.

The cover art for this story was provided by ariakitty. She can be found over on DeviantART.

Playing Elder Scrolls games, I always wished there were more clashes between differing factions during random encounters in the game. Like bandits versus marauders. But that's what fanfiction is for, I guess.

Sarpa don't actually appear in the game and are only mentioned in the _Argonian Account, Book IV_.

Shalks do not appear in _Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion_ but in _Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind_.


End file.
